


Asphodel Meadows

by Somnifery (somnifery)



Series: Alcione [6]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Amnesia, Bandits & Outlaws, Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Fallen (Destiny) - Freeform, Family Reunions, Master/Slave, Multi, Organized Crime, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Reunions, Stockholm Syndrome, Tangled Shore (Destiny), The Reef (Destiny)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2019-09-24 06:57:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 36
Words: 23,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17095922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somnifery/pseuds/Somnifery
Summary: It's a big, scary system outside the City walls.Updates on Wednesdays.





	1. Chapter 1

“Do we need to step out?”

Tamzin forces herself to take a slow, deep breath; A slow, careful sip of her drink.

Kedric is beside her, behind her, sheltering her with his presence, hand around her waist. She is trembling, the ice in her drink clicking against the glass, a bead of sweat leaving a tickling trail as it travels down the side of her face.

“I’ll be fine,” she says. It’s true, this time. “Just give me a minute.”

The Shore is always messy, always loud, especially in Spider’s court. Bandits, refugees, Fallen, chattering in at least a dozen languages, arguing over bounty prices and gambling, the state of things in the broken system they all call home.

Kedric keeps his grip on her, and she feels her heart begin to slow once more, her lightheaded panic beginning to slip away. It was just a scuffle, after all. Just a silly Dreg, screaming like an idiot before it was thrown out.

She can handle these things, now. Better than she used to.

“There,” she sighs, leaning into his side, closing her eyes. “All better.”

“Mostly better.” He wipes the sweat from her brow, the liquor from her lips. “I should’ve seen that coming.”

Tamzin shakes her head, turning to find her seat once more, hook her feet on the bar beneath the counter. A tap on the counter, and she’s having her drink topped off, incandescent liquid bubbling into a froth that reaches the rim.

“You can’t protect me from everything,” she reminds him. “We’ll get used to it. I’ll get less jumpy.”

 _I can’t fix memories,_ Rho told her. _You’re not an Exo we can reboot._

She wouldn’t trade her memories of Kedric, even if she could get rid of the rest.  

The Ghosts stay hidden here, all too aware of the dangers of being seen in Spider’s territory. Scorn, Fallen, Hive-- Any enemy the system can throw at Humanity lurks in the Shore, frothing at the bit for the chance to put a Guardian down for good.

“New job tomorrow,” Kedric says, continuing a conversation she didn’t tune into until now. “Should give us enough glimmer to last, if we play it right.”

“Good.” She just nods, taking another sip of her drink, focusing on the sounds around them instead of the horrors trying to replay in her head. “I want a new Sparrow.”

He gives her a look, taking a sip of his own drink. “We need other things first, remember?”

“Boring things,” Tamzin grumbles. “Things that aren’t fun.”

“I personally think having a ship we can live on would be very fun.” Kedric sighs, swishing his drink around in the glass. “I don’t like that everyone in the Well can hear us through those walls.”

“I’d bite a pillow, if we had more than one.” She retorts, tone dry. “We could find a better place if it bothers you so much.”

“You could just bite me,” he suggests, tone almost hopeful. Tamzin chokes on her drink, laughing.

“I did,” she reminds him, once she’s stopped coughing. “You cried, and then Kessy lectured me for it.”

He blushes, and she laughs even harder.

These moments feel surreal, sometimes, set as they are against the harsh backdrop of the Tangled Shore. They’ve become mercenaries, bandits for hire in this wild frontier, but when they go back to their rented room, their shabby bedroll, this crowded bar, they are as easy together as they were when wearing Vanguard robes.

They just get paid in glimmer, now, not paltry promises of honor and heroism.

A clamor goes up across the room, Fallen clacking and hissed Eliksni, celebrating some large win at one of the gaming tables.

Kedric places a hand on her thigh, reassuring, affectionate. She was distracted, drifting off into her own thoughts.

“I’m okay.” She covers his hand with her own, answering his unspoken question. “I’m right here. Just daydreaming”

“Okay.” He leans over, gives her a chaste kiss on the cheek. “One more round?”

Tamzin shakes her head, but she signals to the bartender all the same.

“ _Can we buy a bottle?”_ She points to the glass, stumbling over the words in her rudimentary Eliksni. “ _I want to take this home_.”


	2. Chapter 2

Prin drops the last box with a huff, bending over and putting her hands on her knees as she waits for the pain in her back to subside. It doesn’t, of course. It never does, at least not these days.

“Oh, hon.” Lia’s voice is disappointed, disapproving. She’s come back in, hands on hips, frowning at the sight of her wife doubled over in pain. “I told you I’d get it. You could’ve waited.”

“It was just a few more.” She shakes her head, forcing herself to stand upright, only wincing a little as the muscles twitch in protest. “Better to get it over with.”

Lia just sighs. Without a word, she walks over, kisses her, and begins guiding her out of the storeroom, back to their living space.

“I’m going to lie down for a bit.” Prin says it as though it’s her idea, as if Lia isn’t pointing to the bed. “Take some pressure off.”

Prin eases herself onto the bed with a groan, pain radiating outward from her lower back, subsiding to a dull ache once she’s finally lying down.

“Prin...” Lia sounds frustrated, sympathetic, settling down beside her wife with a sigh. “You have to rest, or it’s never going to get better.”

“It’s fine,” she replies through clenched teeth, closing her eyes, tilting her head back on the pillows. “It’s always better in the morning.”

“Roll over.” Lia isn’t taking no for an answer, pushing her onto her stomach, and Prin just lets her, grumbling as she drapes herself across their handmade mattress, whining as her partner starts working on the tension with her hands, her elbows.

“Jessa should be helping you,” Lia complains, a familiar refrain by now. “She should never have left.”

“She’s old enough to make her own decisions.” Prin sighs. “Besides, she never wanted to work like we did. She didn't want to be a Corsair. If she’s happy using her talents, even if it is for some Bug…”

She trails off, hissing slightly as Lia finds a stubborn knot. They stay in silence for a long while, Prin beginning to fall asleep to the faint sound of chemical rain falling on the metal walls of their home.

“We haven’t heard from her in a while.” Lia speaks softly, as if she’s hoping Prin is already asleep, that she won’t hear. “I hope she’s okay.”

They both know that Jessa isn’t okay, at least in the general sense of the word. Kedric’s death changed the youngest Zao. She’d become bitter, angry, channeling her energy into her tech witchery, lashing out when her sisters tried to protect her.

Perhaps they’d chased her away, in the end. All she’d wanted to do was help support them, make more money to let them live more comfortably.

Prin doesn’t want to think about that right now, though. Not again.

“She’s terrible at keeping in touch,” Prin replies. “She’ll reach out to us if she needs us. Move down, a bit-- More pressure. Ow.”

“Found it.” She can hear Lia’s smile in her voice as she uses her elbow to dig into the knot. “I’ll take care of the shipment tomorrow. You rest, or else.”

“Are you threatening me?” Prin lifts her head, looking over her shoulder to see her wife’s devilish grin.

“Blackmailing you, actually.” Lia taps her on the back of the skull, making her put her head back down. “Stiff old lady backs aren’t very sexy. I’ll have to find a lover who doesn’t do so much heavy lifting.”

“I hate you sometimes,” Prin grumbles, wincing at another press into her back. “I’m not old.”

“Of course not, babe.” Lia leans forward, kissing on the shoulder, patting her rump affectionately. “I’ll get a heat pack for you to lie on. Don’t you dare get up.”


	3. Chapter 3

As they speak of her, Jessa is dreaming of her sisters. 

They are in their Corsair uniforms once more, and they have come to bring her home. 

Haven’t they? 

“You failed us,” Prin says, tone sad, bitter. “You left us behind for this. Just look at you, Jessa. ” 

Look at her, indeed. 

She is naked, bruised beyond recognition, filthy, lying in a pool of water on the hard floor of her cell. The smell of rot is emanating from the stump of her arm, blood and puss seeping through her bandages. 

_ I’m sorry, _ she says. It comes out as silence, a pained huff of air.  _ Please, don’t leave me. _

They aren’t really here. Hallucinations, again. 

She doesn’t remember the last time they let her sleep. The only reason she’s here now is because she’s dying. 

If she weren’t, she’d be able to get up. She’d crawl, limp, anything but let them beat her again. But she is here, panting, shivering, still in the spot they threw her when they dragged her back to her cell, wondering if hours or moments have gone by since the door closed, since she was left to suffer in silence. 

The hatch opens. The light blinds her.

Eliksni, harsh on her ears. There is a voice that makes her want to cower, makes her want to hide, makes her arm ache anew. 

“Little thief,” he calls her. Ikriss, self-titled Baron, leader of this ragged crew, her boss. 

Her mutilator.  

He touches her with one monstrous paw, blocking the light with his bulk. She can barely open her eyes for the swelling, hardly do more than part her dry, cracked lips. 

He hisses something about disease, about heat. 

Her jailer’s voice joins his, the Vandal’s tone subservient, not at all the bark she’s endured these past weeks. The Baron is asking him about her condition, what he’s done to her. 

They’ve broken her. That’s what he wanted. 

She fades away again, fades into the rhythm of her own pulse, radiating from her wound to the rest of her body, consuming her. 

A scream. The sound of a blade. She feels something hot spray across her, tastes bitter blood and ether on her lips. 

Her jailer, docked. Just like her. 

She would laugh, if she could, but his was a merciful cut, a quick parting. 

Not like her. Not like her at all. 

Huge hands on her, once again, disgusting Eliksni paws lifting her, but they do not grasp her to rend this time, do not snap bone and tear flesh. 

She is carried, and it must be gently, for she fades away once more, into the dull pain that is her entire existence. 

Perhaps she’ll see Kedric, when she finally dies, when the fever takes her, when the Baron decides she’s suffered enough and snaps her neck. She’s missed him. 

She is jarred. Her arm, unbandaged, wound stinging in the open air. And then-- 

For a moment, she thinks she’s been thrown out of an airlock. 

No-- She has been submerged in something. 

Water? 

Something cold, too cold. Her skin burns, her lungs ache from the shock, but she can’t move, can do no more than try to lift her hand, fail, feel herself losing the fight.

Eyes, glowing above her. Hard hands, gripping her head, keeping it above the water. 

“Be still,” he commands her, as if she could move, as if she can do more than gasp for air. “Peace.” 

There is no peace. There is a bitter taste. 

There is oblivion. 


	4. Chapter 4

Months ago, adrift. The scent of smoke still clinging to her hair. 

“Hey.” A pair of fingers, snapping right in front of her face. Sour breath. “Earth to hotshot.”

Tamzin shakes herself out of her reverie, slapping the Drifter’s hand away with a sound of disgust.

“I’m just thinking,” she snarls, resisting the temptation to kick the man in the groin, get him to take a few steps back, out of her personal space. “What do you want?”

“You were sulkin’ again,” he corrects her. “Kedric’s back. Go help him unload.”

She doesn’t contradict him, but she does roll her eyes, mumbling something about being underpaid, letting the hatch close a bit too loudly behind her.

Kedric’s shoving crates around, cape off, hair slick from sweat, falling out of the band he’s tried to tie it back with. He smiles when he sees her, that bright, joyous smile that makes her forget all the bad things in the world.

“Who let a beautiful girl like you onto a piece of junk like this?” He spreads his arms out, looking around theatrically. “Are you lost, miss?”

“You know, I had the same question last night.” Tamzin smiles to soften the jab, pushing off the floor and taking advantage of the lower gravity to drift to his arms. “What needs moving?”

“Just one thing.” He catches her, sets her on a crate, kisses her like it’s been years rather than days. “You sit here and look tempting while I finish up.”

“I’d rather be busy,” she pokes his side as he turns away. “I keep getting stuck in my own head because I’ve got nothing better to do.“

“I have a few ideas.” Kedric hoists up a crate, shoving it toward the wall and letting it float, making sure the magnets on the other crates catch it before picking up another. “When I finish my work, at least. Can’t have him tossing us off before we reach the Shore, right?”

“He won’t.” She smirks, that little smile she has when she’s feeling clever. “I wouldn’t let him.”

Kedric gives her an odd look, and for a moment it seems he’ll ask her something, but he just shakes his head, turns back to the crate before him, tries not to follow these lines between his lover and another man.

“Kedric?”

He looks up, startled. He hadn’t heard her speaking.

“You missed.”

Tamzin’s already pushing herself up, drifting up to catch the crate that ricocheted off the wall and up toward the ceiling. She spins as she gets her grip on it, letting it carry her until she can get her feet on solid hull and shove off, back to the stack of crates.

“Oh.”

Kedric is out of things to move. The containers click together, and Tamzin turns to see if any are left before reaching for the net, tying them down.

“Sorry, was thinking about… the Shore.”

“Not me?” Tamzin smiles, oblivious to his suspicion. “Guess I’ll go look tempting somewhere else, then.”

“No.” His reply is a bit too quick, her smirk fading as she hears the edge of anger in his voice. “No. I want you here.”

“I was joking,” she says, as if he’s spoiled her fun. “What’s wrong?”

Kedric doesn’t answer, but he comes to her, takes her by the waist and draws her into a possessive, brutal kiss. Tamzin has to pull away to catch her breath, a hand on his chest to hold him off.

“Hey, come on. What is it?”

He hesitates, looking into her eyes, seeking some sign of betrayal the way she’s searching for the cause of his sudden aggression. They both come up empty.

There is a frustrated, heavy pause.

“You’re mine,” Kedric reminds her. “You’re my entire universe.”

“... I know.” Tamzin brings a hand to his cheek, gentle, trying to soothe him. “It’s the same for me.”

_Is it?_

He pushes her back against the crates, but he doesn’t press the issue.


	5. Chapter 5

“You can come with us,” Lia repeats, as if Jessa’s deaf or stupid, as if this radio call hasn’t been going on for nearly an hour. “We can set up a room for you. It’ll be like it used to be.”

“Like it used to be? Shit, Lia.” The girl can’t keep the edge out of her voice, can’t be bothered to soften her sarcasm. “Why didn’t the Queen have you do that in the first place?”

Jessa can practically hear her sister-in-law’s flinch in the silence that follows her hurtful words. She sighs, putting pressure on the bridge of her nose, glad the call’s not a video transmission. Not that the ship has those capabilities, flying piece of shit that it is. She’s lucky she got a live channel to work, usually bound to lengthy back-and-forth transmissions over the course of days, if not weeks.

“Look, I’m sorry.” She sounds half as tired as she feels. “I know you just want me to be close, but I can’t do it. I was so bored, you know it was killing me.”

“I can’t believe that working for a _Bug_ is preferable to living with your family!” Prin’s voice, loud in the background, makes Jessa cringe. “Let alone living with them. They’re animals, Jessa. You’ve seen what they do to their own kind, cutting off limbs like--”

“Can you shut up, please?” She hisses between clenched teeth, not daring to look around to see if she’s been heard. “I don’t know who watches this channel.”

“Is that it? You’re being forced to stay?”

Prin’s question is cut off by a hand covering the mic, and Jessa sighs, waiting for the sounds of their muffled arguing to end.

“You’re old enough to make your own choices,” Lia finally says. “We just want you to know that we will be ready to take you in at a moment’s notice if you change your mind, okay?”

“Thanks,” Jessa replies a bit dryly. “I’ll take you up on it if I need to.”

The rest of the call is painfully typical. She’ll wish she’d paid more attention, later, but by the time she cuts the feed on this day, she’s ready to go to her room and sleep like the dead, no matter how loud the ship is.

“We love you,” they said. “You know how to reach us, any time, okay?”

Jessa edges past a circle of Dregs, chittering around some kind of gambling setup until they spot her. They go quiet, staring, and she turns to give them a disdainful look over her shoulder, hands out to indicate she has nothing worth gawking at. Still, they talk more quietly once she’s passed, as if gossiping about her.

She’s nearly to her room when she hears a familiar voice, barely a whisper.

“Jessa,” the Eliksni hisses again, in the dimly lit alcove of a disused storage room. “Come.”

The Awoken sighs, wondering if she’ll ever get to sleep. The Eliksni doesn’t use her given name usually, though, so it must be something important.

“What, Keliss?”

The female Vandal tugs her further into the shadows as she approaches, clicking anxiously as she looks down the corridors.

“Our master has been told tales,” she begins, the soft inflections of her Eliksni barely intelligible. “A filthy little Dreg, seeking favor, has said you are thieving.”

The tone is meaningful, as is Keliss’ stare, her grip on Jessa’s arm. She knows about her friend’s offenses, skimming glimmer and other resources from the Baron’s stashes, slipping them into her shipments to her sisters, hiding them in her rooms.

Again.

“He can’t have evidence,” Jessa hisses. “He can’t prove anything.”

“You were caught once, you fool. He owns you for it. What do you think he will do to you now?”

Jessa takes a deep breath, trying to ignore the icy terror that’s building in her gut.

“Beat me. Make me work it off.”

The Vandal laughs, a strange sound that always sends a chill down Jessa’s spine.

“I hope you get off so lightly,” she says, stroking her friend’s soft arm, an affectation she’s picked up from the Awoken girl. “Be careful.”

Jessa’s hand strays to the pouch on her belt as Keliss slips away, disappearing through a hatch and back to her duties. The lining is packed with glimmer, lying in wait for the next opportunity to be sent out, away.

It feels like it’s burning a hole in her side now.

“Fuck.”

She looks down the corridor, seeking any sign that she’s being followed. It’s empty, though, blessedly empty, and she takes off toward her room once more, walking a bit faster, trying to look unconcerned.

Jessa feels a surge of relief as she reaches her door, slams her hand into the button to open it.

That relief evaporates at the sight of glowing eyes inside.

“Our Baron requires your presence,” one of the Vandals informs her. He sounds a bit too pleased to be carrying out his orders. “Immediately.”

Jessa forces herself to keep her hand at her side, not letting it fly to her waist, not letting her eyes dart to any of her hiding places in the room behind them.

There’s nowhere to run, no time to try and hide the evidence of her crimes. Her only option is to try and talk her way out of this.

“Always has to pull this at the end of my shift, huh?” Jessa throws up her hands, a gesture of frustration and helplessness. “Let’s go, then. Sooner this is done, sooner I can get some sleep.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

When she sees the number of Fallen in the audience chamber, Jessa knows this won’t go well. He’s planning to make an example of her.

She swallows, counting her steps up the room, reminding herself to keep her tongue away from her teeth this time.

“You wanted me, sir?” Jessa dips her head, the only concession she ever grants his rank, meeting his eyes, hoping they don’t show her fear. “Is there an emergency?”

He makes a low creaking sound, something between displeasure and disgust, looking her over the way he did when she first came into his domain.

“I have been hearing disturbing things about you, little witch.” The pet name feels like a threat in this conversation, a promise. “Would you like to confess?”

They can’t have evidence. He can’t. She’s been careful.

Hasn’t she?

“Confess?” She blinks, eyes wide. “To what?”

The Baron seems pleased to hear the lie. Jessa can’t resist the instinct to step back as he leans forward, chuckling.

“This.” He gestures with one paw, and a Dreg empties a sack at her feet, quickly scurrying back into the press of Fallen around them. Glimmer, shards, valuables she’s slipped into her palm, slipped into some device or other, hidden behind a battery or paneling, shipped to her sisters-- _Thought_ she shipped to her sisters.

She feels lightheaded, suddenly, all the blood draining from her face as she realizes how long she’s been played for a fool.

“What’s this?” Jessa’s mouth is dry with terror, and the words come out the same way. “I don’t know--”

It’s easy to forget how quickly he can move his massive body, the way he always sits on that damn chair. In an instant, he’s on his feet, striking her across the face with a massive hand, sending her reeling to the floor with the taste of blood in her mouth.

“Do not lie to me.”

It’s a command, cold. The Eliksni around them recoil, then boil forward, pressing in to get a better view. Jessa stares into the forest of legs, wiping the blood from her nose and lips with the back of her hand, dragging herself to her knees.

“I’m not lying.”

Another blow, this time hard enough to make her vision explode in colors. She isn’t sure if he’s blown her eardrum or if that buzz is the Fallen rooting their leader on, enjoying her pain.

“You were warned,” he says, loud enough to carry, loud enough to cut through her disorientation. “You were told what would be done if you offended again.”

“Yeah,” she snaps, spitting out a mouthful of blood. “Do it. Beat me bloody. Make me work it off. Have your fun.”

He seems taken aback, and for a moment she thinks her headstrong display has deterred him-- until he laughs.

“You are a fool.”

He waves, and she is being hauled upright by a pair of Vandals, her struggle futile as they overpower her, twisting her arms behind her back until she yelps in pain. Several pairs of strong paws get a grip on her head, her neck, keeping her still, forcing her to look at Ikriss.

“You were told I would dock your thieving hands.” He hooks one large nail beneath her chin, forcing her to look further up, into his eyes. “I should take both.”

“You can’t.” Jessa wants to snarl, to yell, but even she can hear the pitch of panic in her own voice. “You can’t do this to me. I’m not one of your filthy Dregs.”

There’s a hiss of disapproval from the watching Fallen, and one of the Vandals tightens their grip until she gasps. The Baron reaches for her arm, her right arm, the Vandal releasing it and shifting to help the others immobilize the rest of her body, her straining limbs.

“Ah, little witch…” The Baron is laughing, enclosing her right arm in his dominant hands, tracing the limb until he finds a spot halfway between her wrist and her elbow. “That is where you’re wrong.”

He begins to bend her arm, and she tries to yank it away, tries to struggle, but can’t even kick out, overpowered by the Vandals, immobilized by their superior strength.

He’s watching her face, she realizes- He wants to savor her pain.

Jessa grits her teeth. She braces herself. She won’t beg. She won’t cry out. No matter what he does, no matter how much it hurts, she won’t give him the satisfaction of degrading her.

“ _Fuck_ you, Ikriss.”

He laughs. She breaks.


	7. Chapter 7

The Shore, at last. One final game.

She steps through the darkness, and she becomes death.

Tamzin inhales the Deep and exhales Light, feels power flow into her lungs, outward into the rest of her body, setting each vein and artery aflame. She is herself, the truest form, free of her worries, her fears--

“It’s been a while,” the Drifter says, voice oddly crisp on her radio. “How’s it feel?”

“I’ll let Kedric know later,” she replies, pulling the trigger, sighing in relief as a Titan’s helmet shatters, skull exploding in a rain of gore. “I'm sure you'll listen in, as always.”

He laughs, that deep chuckle he has when he’s not faking his amusement. She’d be able to imagine his facial expression, if she cared to.

She doesn’t, though.

She cares about the way that Hunter screams when the bullet tears through her spinal column, the way this Warlock crumples to the ground like a puppet with cut strings, the back of her head and helm blown away with her bullet like a brutal parting gift.

“Ten seconds,” he warns.

“I only need two.” She blinks into their starting area, sword in hand. “Don’t lose count.”

“Your teammate’s back!” The Drifter howls, nearly deafening her as she readjusts to the daylight, the sensation of her own skin, her own mind. “And she got six kills!”

Tamzin shakes the blood from her hand, licking her dry lips. She’s panting, breath ragged, head spinning with adrenaline, pulse pounding in her ears.

“Seven,” she corrects him. “There’s no way the last one made it.”

He just laughs, and she closes her eyes, slinging her rifle onto her back, counting down the seconds until the world slows down and she’s at home in her own skin again.

“Darling.”

Kedric is here, as he always is when she isn’t herself. She doesn’t even have to open her eyes. His hand on her neck, at her waist, drawing her close as their teammates summon a monster, as the void howls around them.

"I'm alright." It hasn't unhinged her, she means. It hasn't sent her spiraling into her nightmares. "I'm here." 

He tightens his grip for a moment, and they let time stop. 

She finds her center, and they return to the slaughter.


	8. Chapter 8

When Jessa was younger, she heard stories about the way the Eliksni treated their own. She’d seen them on the Shore, another people adrift, vicious and violent for the sake of survival in a system that has no pity for the weak.  

Weak. _She_ is weak.

She closes her eyes, and tries to forget how she begged him to stop, begged him not to do it, until the pain was so great she could no longer form words.

The way they break her is ritualistic. She is beaten, deprived of sleep, left in filth, forced to kneel on the hard metal floor for hours, deluged with buckets of ice cold water until her lips are white and the blue seems to have seeped from her skin.

Still, she resists. She thinks of her home, and her brother, and her sisters, and she lashes out with the last of her strength, endures their punishments, bites the hands that dare grab her.

She feels as if she’ll die if she doesn’t sleep soon.

She starts to hear Kedric. Prin.

 _Don’t let them see you flinch,_ he says. _You’re the toughest of us all. You can take on anything._

She staggers, falling, whimpering as her face hits the floor and something cracks.

“Up!” The Vandal hisses, jabbing her in the side with an electrified prod, once, twice.

She can’t get up. All she can do is whimper, seize up when he shocks her, gasp for air when her lungs begin to work again. He only stops when she wretches, when she vomits water and bile and blood.

She is dragged back to her cell, thrown in like so much dead weight, left to suffer for what feels like an eternity.

Since she bit one of them, she is held down like a dangerous animal when they come rebandage her arm-- What’s left of her arm.

When they let her sleep, when she blacks out and cannot be roused, she falters back into the waking world and discovers that she no longer has a hand, and she screams, or cries, or beats her head against the wall, until they beat her into silence, into obedience.

Once again, she is dragged out, forced to walk, forced to kneel for hours, splashed with ice cold water until the blood and shit and sweat is gone, until she cannot stop shivering.

Her arm smells rancid, even after they change the bandages.

The Baron docked her with his bare hands, like a boy snapping a bird’s wing. Is it any wonder that it became infected?

She doesn’t know when it started. It always hurt, always stung, always ached.

The fever and pain drain all the fight from her. She staggers through their torment until she collapses, until they have to beat her and drag her back onto her feet, drive her onward until she falls again, and again.

Weeks pass. Months?

She falls and cannot be roused. She is consumed by the darkness, the fog of fatigue and fever.

She hears them, feels them prodding her, hitting her--

She just doesn’t fear them now.

She dreams about the wet sound of Ikriss tearing her arm off, twisting the flesh and meat until there is nothing left.

“Little thief.” The Baron, purring to her, lifting her broken body so easily, huge hand encircling her small ribs, her head lolling back as she groans in agony.

“Kill me,” she begs, voice cracking, the cold water licking at her fever-parched skin, trying to turn her face away from the sharp scent of something he’s pressing to her mouth. “Please.”

“Breathe,” he commands. “Deeply, now.”

She breathes, for she can do nothing else.


	9. Chapter 9

Something about the endless sky of the Shore makes Tamzin’s chest tighten, her head spin, the reality of the situation setting in yet again as they leave the confines of the Derelict behind.

“We shouldn’t be here.” She steps back, as if she has somewhere she can retreat to, as if there’s anywhere to go but forward. “We don’t belong out here.”

Kedric is tense, tired. He doesn’t release his grip on her hand, tugging her forward once more, toward his Sparrow.

“Get on,” he tells her, somehow managing to sound gentle despite his frustration. “Get ahold of yourself.”

“Sorry.” Tamzin cringes, trying to steady herself. “I just need a minute.”

“It’s scary, I know.” Kessy’s voice, in her ear- sweet, soothing. “Just take a breath, and it’ll be fine. Kedric’s here. It’s going to work out.”

The Ghost knows just how to ease her fears in a way Rho never has. Tamzin forces herself to inhale, feels the air break past the tension in her chest.

“... Okay. Yeah.” She swings her leg over the Sparrow, wrapping her arms around Kedric’s waist, resting her head against his back. He brushes his fingers over her arm affectionately, then kicks off, the sound of the engine like a scream on these silent wastes.

“Your friend will eat her alive if she’s like this,” Rho hisses to Kedric. “Even the dimmest Fallen can sniff out fear.”

“I didn’t ask you,” he snaps. The Ghost is using a closed channel, private, though he’s sure Kessy can hear if she wants to. He releases one hand from the Sparrow, resting it on top of Tamzin’s, reassuring her once more. “She’ll be fine. It’s just… change.”

The Derelict was a pit, but it had been something constant, something unchanging in the aftermath of a life turned upside down. He’d seen that flash of fear when the Drifter said they’d arrived, the moment she realized that they were venturing out into the unknown.

Fear is a luxury Kedric can’t afford, even if he wanted to feel it. Not while he has to protect her.

“She needs to get used to it.” Rho is still harsh, but he has grown accustomed to her. She has Tamzin’s anger, her impatience, but she has not been shaped by this life the way her Guardian has been. She lacks an understanding of Tamzin’s grief, her need for stability, and most of all, her love for Kedric.

“Rho…” Kedric sighs, rolling his shoulders back, forcing himself to stop tensing up. “Give her time. Things will be normal again. We just have to do the heavy lifting for a while.”

Once she stopped heaping abuse on Tamzin, Kedric found Rho to be tolerable company. Her sidebars can even be helpful, when out of Tamzin’s earshot. Meanwhile, Kessy has found Tamzin to be her own favorite, someone in need of her gentleness, her understanding.

“Hey,” Tamzin breaks into his thoughts, voice soft on the comm. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Kedric smiles, though she can’t see his face. “You’re allowed to be scared.”

“Fuck.” She sounds like she might be laughing, might be crying. He doesn’t stop to find out, giving her a moment of privacy, of peace.

They have to get off and walk, eventually, traversing miles upon miles of caves, carved into these rocks by the wind, the debris, or bizarrely placed streams of water, some long dry.

“Can we stop?” Tamzin asks, staggering with fatigue.

He pauses, comes back to support her, give her time to catch her breath.

“Not out here.” He sighs, not pleased with the answer himself. “There’s too many hostiles. Just a few more hours, though. I promise.”

Nearly a day, in the end. The Sparrow burns out halfway across the next expanse, requiring some creative rewiring as Kedric stands guard, watching for any signs of life that may appear to take advantage of their bad luck.

“It’s taking longer because she’s falling asleep,” Rho observes. “You need to learn to do some of this yourself.”

“Now isn’t the time for lessons,” Kedric replies, patience fraying. “She’ll get it running and we’ll be on our way.”

She does, with a frustrated smack of the casing, nearly burning her leg as the tailpipe roars to life.

Kedric lifts her to her feet, brushing the dust from her coat. 

“A few more hours,” he says again. “Honestly.”

"Whatever." She shakes her head, sounding as tired as he feels. "Let's just go." 


	10. Chapter 10

They stand outside of a once-intact Ketch, now something like a palace, the noise of something-like-music and voices loud even out here. He puts his hands on her shoulders, her helmet, drawing her close.

“We’re going to see the Spider,” he tells her. “I need you with me, though. I need you to keep it together.”

“I can.” She thinks she can. She just has to think about now, this moment, this precise point in time. It’s the before, the after, the what-if that scares her. “I can do it.”

He takes her at her word, and leads her into the heat and press, the crowd of the criminal and outcast, wearing the skin of every race that’s crept into this system save the Vex.

“Take a deep breath,” Kedric tells her. He pulls off his helmet, and she follows suit, shaking out her hair, the flash of copper catching the attention of the creatures around them. She ignores them, following Kedric, wetting her dry lips with her tongue in a small concession to her nerves.

“Spider.” Kedric calls out, stepping to the center of the open space before the Law, dipping into a bow that could grace any true court. “It’s been a while.”

“Indeed, it has.” The Fallen growls, leaning forward, taking in the Hunter and his companion. “What brings you to my Shore? More spare parts for sale?”

“Unfortunately, not this time.” Kedric smiles as the Spider laughs at his own joke. “I’ve come to ask for work. My partner and I have decided our talents as fighters are wasted on the City. Since we happened to be on the Shore, I wanted to come offer our services.”

“Did you, now?” The Spider grunts, gesturing at Tamzin. “She doesn’t look like much of a fighter.”

She pulls her gaze away from the dice game at a nearby table, meets his glowing eyes with her own, mismatched.

“I’m not a fighter,” she says. Her voice is soft, but strong, forcing those eavesdropping nearby to fall silent so they can hear her. “I’m a killer.”

The Spider laughs, an uproar, and his sycophants follow suit. The Warlock stands, unperturbed, not taking her eyes from the oversized Fallen.

Kedric slips an arm around her waist, quietly claiming her as his own.

“I like this one,” the Fallen tells him. “I suppose I can find some… odd jobs for you.”

“Good.” Kedric smiles, charming as ever, pulling Tamzin against his side. “Can we beg a bed for the night, as well? We haven't quite managed to find accommodations, since we've only just arrived. 

“We can work something out, my friend.” Spider sits back, chuckling, waving a paw to dismiss them. “Find Arrha, ask him for your board. Tomorrow, we can discuss your terms.”

Kedric thanks him, bows-- Leads her away.

She is weary to the bone, and in the morning she will barely remember their passage through the crowd, the hallways, the sullen Vandal that led them to an empty room, bare save for some dubious cloth stacked in one corner.

“There’s no bed,” she points out once the door is closed behind them. “It’s just a pile of rags.”

"It's soft. It'll do." Kedric looks at her, gray with fatigue, swaying on her feet, and smiles. “Come here, sleepy girl.”

With careful hands, he begins to undress her, peeling away her armor, her weapons, until she has nothing but her softsuit left, easing her to sit on their makeshift bed and slipping off her boots. She watches, dazed, yawning widely as he works, struggling to keep her eyes open.

“You need to rest,” he tells her. “We’re safe now. Lie down, and I’ll join you in a minute."

She doesn’t, though. She watches him strip down, kicking off his shoes, running his fingers through his hair to tie it back once more. He sighs as he sees her there, still sitting up, and drops to his knees, crawling onto the bedding beside her.

“Come on.” Kedric hooks an arm about her waist, dragging her down with him, pulling her against his chest. He buries his face in her hair, inhaling the scent of her with a soft hum of contentment. "Better?" 

“Mm-hm.”

Tamzin sighs. She's already fading, too tired to worry about the noise, the strange surroundings, the unlocked door. There's only Kedric's warmth, his arms wrapped around her, the sound of his breathing.

“Perfect.”


	11. Chapter 11

The Baron watches her small chest rise and fall, each breath a marvel, a feat of survival for a creature so frail.  

Fascination. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, one he does not often experience.

His little thief is catatonic, watching the Vandal carve away her rotten flesh with unseeing eyes, dry lips parted as if she’s about to speak.

He can smell the Ether on her breath, ever so faint beneath the stench of her blood, her decay. She can’t feel a thing in this condition. Still, she is strapped down, kept still as the blade slices away at the decay and infection, scraping bone.

Ikriss leans forward and wipes a trail of spit from the corner of her mouth, resting his giant paw on her head rather than withdrawing.

“How deep?” He asks, peering down at the mess of blood and puss, the congealed tissue. “Must the rest be removed?”

The Vandal hisses in dissent. “No, no. It is but a little farther, see?” He sinks his blade into untouched flesh, slicing deep, parting the flesh to show his Baron the untainted meat within.

Jessa makes a soft, guttural sound, an animalistic sound of pain.

“She wakes,” the Vandal observes, tone entirely indifferent. “A quick cut, perhaps?”

“Heat the blade,” Ikriss commands.

He watches Jessa’s face as he waits, brushing one talon across the swollen line of her cheekbone, fractured from her beatings. Her eyelids flutter, closing, a soft exhale.

The Baron feels protective, in this moment- A desire to preserve this brittle female, helpless as he has made her.

He can shape this broken, pitiful thing into his own creature.

He eases a tube from a nearby tank between her lips, gently closing her jaw.

“Breathe,” he purrs, again, anticipating another struggle, another attempt to resist. “Deeply, now.”

Jessa doesn’t fight, though. She inhales-- Coughs, straining for a few wheezing breaths.  

Her body loses all tension, all strength. She seems to melt beneath her restraints, the glaze coming over her eyes once more.

The Vandal brandishes the blade, glowing with heat. He slices through flesh and bone, filling the room with the scent of burnt flesh and the sound of sizzling fluids.

“Finish it,” he commands. The Vandal scurries to obey, taking care not to fumble as it gets to work on closing the wound, sharp instruments digging into her flesh, stretching it over the raw sinew and bone.

His little witch’s breathing has quickened, though she has not flinched, has not moved. He does not move to soothe her, though. He simply watches, wondering how much she feels, how aware she is of this moment.

Is the agony worse, perhaps, if one cannot scream?

“Alert me when you’ve put her away.” Ikriss has business to attend to, things more important than his new toy. “Be sure she doesn’t worsen.”

He hears the Vandal hiss, a soft sound of annoyance, as the door closes behind him. Insubordination, perhaps, but also a sign that his command is less feasible than he’d imagine.


	12. Chapter 12

Kedric’s hand traces the curves of her breasts, her ribs, finding the dip of her navel before laying his flat palm over her flat belly.

Tamzin grumbles something, still dozing, shifting close to his heat, the bite of cold space seeping through the walls of their new home.

“I think I dreamed about my family,” Kedric says, voice muffled by her hair and sleep. “My sisters.”

Tamzin takes a slow breath. Yawns.

“Yeah? What kinda dream?”

She lied to him, once. Told him they were all dead. He won’t leave her to go hunting for them. They won’t take him away from her.

“Just… family things. I was young. Had a baby sister.”

He is silent for a while, and she starts dozing off again, sure he’s fallen asleep.

“How did they all die?” His voice is quiet, but she feels the weight there, the trap waiting for her.

“You didn’t tell me.” She turns onto her side, finding a more comfortable position. “It was upsetting for you.”

He’s quiet for a while, stroking her hair absently.

“I think I might not be so different,” he says, softly, unsure if she’s fallen back to sleep. “No matter how much I deny it, I may just be the person I was before.”

“Mm.” Tamzin wishes he’d go back to sleep. This isn’t a conversation she feels safe having like this, half-awake, half-dreaming, a place where words can slip out in dangerous ways. “Sort of.”

Perhaps she’ll tell him, tomorrow, when she’s not disoriented by sleep, the ways he’s changed. The seemingly infinite patience he’s gained, interrupted by flashes of violent emotion, be it anger or passion or fear. He was tempered, once, she thought. But perhaps she didn’t see these parts of him.

“Go to sleep,” Kedric breathes, pressing a kiss to her hair. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

A soft hum of assent, of forgiveness.

She dreams they are on a ship, in a real bed, and he has draped her damaged arm about his shoulder, the better to kiss her throat as they make love.


	13. Chapter 13

She wakes, feverish, in a strange room, a strange bed. She can’t seem to focus her eyes on anything, either, a blur of stark walls, dark shadows, some vast presence just out of sight.

Jessa tries to swallow, tries to rid her mouth of an acrid, sour taste, but her mouth is dry.

Water. She needs…

The presence moves, looming over her. Something pressed against her lips, into her mouth. She doesn’t have the strength to turn her head away, but then she tastes it.

She drinks, as best she can. Even suckling at the low-grav pouch is a strain, a labor, but her caregiver seems to see this. The water is squeezed into her mouth as she suckles, some unseen hand depressing the pouch until it is empty, her tongue seeking the final drop with a soft sound of disappointment.

A huge, rough paw caresses her brow, her body, a motion that may be meant to soothe.

“Good,” a soft purr, Eliksni, a voice that makes her heart race in terror, her arm ache. She can’t flee, though-- Can barely even recoil as he touches her, running one dominant paw down her arm, stopping as the touch makes her moan in pain.  

“No.” She can’t say more, can barely say this. “S… Stop.”

He ignores her, lifting her hand, examining it. Not her hand, she realizes-- White bandages covering a stump that ends a few inches below her elbow, the flesh purple and black with bruising and swelling.

Is she hallucinating? She can’t see straight, can’t focus her eyes. She had bad dreams like this, dreams of pain and blood, dreams of howling Eliksni.

“Wh- What did you do to me?” She wonders, vaguely, why her speech is slurred. “My hand…”

It wasn’t a nightmare. None of it.

“It heals well,” the Baron says, as if it should reassure her, as if she didn’t speak at all. “Be still, little witch.”

She is tense, trying to move, perhaps, trying to pull away from him, to escape. He touches her stump, livid and tender, and she feels ill.

“Stop,” she pleads weakly. “Please stop.”  

He just chuckles, continuing to handle the mutilated arm, the sound shifting to a soft growl as the nausea gets the best of her. Jessa begins to wretch, too weak to get up, turn herself over. With a click of impatience, the Baron picks her up, repositions her, ragdoll-limp in his grip, lets her cough water and bile onto the floor, holds her upright as she gasps for air.

“Calm,” Ikriss sighs, easing her back to the bedding, a hand beneath her head as he eases her onto her side. Should she get sick again, at least she won’t choke. “Do not fight me.”

Jessa makes a soft sound of distress, but she is too weakened to struggle, though she is trying to muster the strength. He can feel the way her muscles tense, preparing to fight or flee.

“Do _not_ fight me.” It’s a command this time, voice low, dangerous. “Be still.”

For a moment, she hesitates, as if she weren’t so weak that she can’t even sit up. As if she has a choice. But she is ill, and she is weak, and all she can do is sob, a sound she can’t even accompany with tears, too dehydrated for even that simple release.

He brings more water to her lips. She drinks as she is told, earning his praise.

“Good.” Ikriss purrs. “Very good.”

Jessa says something, but he cannot distinguish the blurred, muffled words. She doesn’t try to repeat them, either, lucidity fleeing with her strength like so much Ether on the wind.

Ikriss waits, caressing her skin like a human gentling a horse, until her fitful, feverish sleep takes her, and he is left to marvel once more at these small bones, these stubborn breaths.


	14. Chapter 14

“Spider’s got a new contractor, apparently.”

Prin sighs, wondering why Spider’s come up, why she’s having to hear about work when she’s trying to get the ache in her leg to go away.

Lia pauses, hearing her. She comes over, putting a hand over her wife’s scarred knee.

“Is it any better?”

The injury itself was healed well when they were still with the Corsairs, leaving Prin able to walk and run without issue. After all this time, though, the scar tissue has started to cause problems, pinching some nerve or muscle or another at inopportune moments, leaving her clutching a wall as pain radiates from the wound.

“It’ll pass.” Prin catches Lia’s hand in her own, lacing their fingers together, brushing a kiss across her knuckles. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

“Oh.” Lia blinks, trying to get her train of thought back. “Oh, the contractor. Someone getting more Vanguard supplies for Spider.”

“That’s not great news for us,” Prin observes. “He’ll hike up prices. You know how he is.”

“Yup.” Lia sighs, staring around at their makeshift home with a faintly grim smile. “We’ll get by, though. One way or another.”

They’re quiet for a long minute, a comfortable silence. Prin squeezes her wife’s hand, tugging her down to lie down across her lap, the weight somehow managing to ease the ache in her leg.

“We can reach out to Ikriss,” Lia says, closing her eyes, enjoying the feeling of Prin’s fingers in her hair. “If it comes to that. Jessa could help us. Put in a word.”

“Maybe.” Prin sighs heavily in return. They do a lot of sighing, these days, these past years. “He’s a snake.”

Lia laughs. “What, and Spider’s not?”

“No, he is, too. But he’s the kind of snake that’s in it for the glimmer.” Prin’s mouth twists into a sour expression that makes Lia giggle. “Ikriss is just a sadistic son of a bitch like the rest of his kind.”

“Money’s money.” Lia reaches up to tap her on the nose with one finger, displacing her frown. “Besides, Jessa works for him. She’d leave if it was that bad. You know how she is.”

Prin allows herself a smile, more at the sight of her wife’s outspread hair and uneven smirk than their conversation.

“I do.” She leans forward, kissing Lia, letting her hair fall around them like a veil. “She’s just as spoiled as you.”


	15. Chapter 15

“Ow.”

Tamzin frowns at the line of blood welling on her palm. WIth a sigh, she holds the injured hand out for Rho to heal yet again.

“You spin it too much.” Kedric takes the knife from her, fingers pinching the tip of the blade, lazily tossing it up, catching it in the same spot. Of course, he doesn’t cut himself when he does it. “Speed’s not important. It’s one swing, then the weight of the hilt does the rest.”

“Give it,” she reaches out, ignoring Rho’s irritated noise. “I can do it.”

The Hunter surrenders the blade, smiling as he watches her test the weight, bite her lip in concentration. She tests the swing, once, twice, releasing it on the third. With a gasp of delight, she finally executes the catch without drawing blood.

“There you go!” He can’t help laughing at her excitement. “You just have to practice.”

It is a relief to see this Tamzin again, cheeks flushed with pride, eyes bright. Kedric reaches out, rests a hand on her cheek, caressing her scars with his thumb as he takes in the sight of her.

“What?” She tilts her head into his touch, smiling at him. “You look sad.”

It hasn’t been so long since they arrived on the Shore, since they finally collapsed into the bed they now call their own. Tamzin spent the better part of their first weeks asleep or unresponsive, lost to the world as he fretted, waited, only leaving her side reluctantly to do odd jobs for their host.

Perhaps she was just fatigued, bone-weary from their journey, their trials. Perhaps she was grieving, healing the wounds of their lost life, pain so deep she needed to dream it away.

He may never know.

“I’m not sad.” He reassures her, leaning forward to give her a soft, sweet kiss. “‘I’ve missed you.”

Tamzin doesn’t correct him this time-- Doesn’t try to assure him that she never left.

“Thank you for staying,” she says. Her voice is a breath, a bare whisper, but he can hear it as well as any shout. “For loving me.”

“I’ll love you until the sun burns out.” He kisses her again, hand covering her own, making sure the knife doesn’t fall between them. “You know that.”

There’s a pointed growl from the doorway, startling Kedric into a jump that makes Tamzin giggle.

“What?” The Hunter doesn’t bother to keep the irritation out of his voice. “This better be important, Arhaa.”  

“Warlock.” The Fallen speaks past Kedric, as though he weren’t there at all. Tamzin turns at the sound of her title, lips already twisting into a frown. “Spider asks for you.”

“What for?” She glances at Kedric, a flash of concern. “Are you sure he didn’t mean Kedric?”

“If he wanted the Hunter, I would be speaking to him.” Arhaa retorts, testy as ever. “Do not make him wait.”

“Fine, fine. I’m coming.” Tamzin palms her lover’s knife, slipping it into her belt as she stands. “I’ll be right back.”

“Be careful,” he whispers, brushing a kiss across the back of her hand before she slips away.

The Spider is enthroned, as always, guarded by his spiked servants. The only thing of note is that the room is emptier than usual, the petitioners and sycophants either sleeping or causing trouble elsewhere.

“Ah, the quiet killer.” Spider’s voice rings out in the room, drawing all attention to himself, arms outspread in welcome. “Come closer, Kedric’s friend. Let me see you.”

Tamzin is already approaching, albeit at a leisurely pace. She stops a few meters before his seat, clasping her hands behind her back to keep her fingers from straying to her weapons.

“Call me Tamzin. I’m his lover, not his dog.”

If Kedric were here, he’d be nudging at her for being impertinent. He’s cowed by this Fallen, for some reason, but he’s a flatterer, a charmer, always seeking to please for some future benefit. Tamzin is not.

“So it would seem.” The Spider chuckles, leaning forward, looking her over. “I am curious about you, Tamzin. Your mate never mentioned you before showing up to beg for my protection.”

“Do your other smugglers share their personal lives with you?” Her smile is sweet, composed to match her tone.

“They share enough.” The Fallen is toying with a Ghost shell as he speaks. The soft clicking noise puts her teeth on edge. “Tales of your City, Guardian scandals… I’m sure you can imagine the gossip that reaches my Shore.”

“I was never very social,” she demurs. Tamzin has a feeling that this is a trap, but she refuses to flinch. “Rumors hardly came my way, at least while they were useful.”

The Fallen makes a noise not unlike a human laugh, an unsettling caricature.

“Perhaps you’d like to hear the latest news, then?”

It’s not a question. Tamzin doesn’t look away, doesn’t respond, though her smile has faded.

“I’ve been told that a half-mad Guardian has been cast out for killing a poor, defenseless Human.”

Tamzin is certain her expression doesn’t change, but the Spider seems pleased all the same, purring like a cat with cream as she swallows against a sudden lump in her throat.

“My dear friend told me the man was burned alive. A very... unfortunate way to die, don’t you agree?”

That _is_ a question. One she’s expected to answer.

“What do you want to know?”

She’s thinking of Kedric, strangely, imagining how angry he would be to hear this line of questioning. He’d want to protect her.

But she doesn’t feel like she needs protection.

“I want to know what sort of trouble I’ve agreed to shelter,” the Spider replies, resting his hand on one dominant paw. “And what your relevant skills are, if you plan to stay in my employ.”

“You’ll have to decide what sort of trouble I am. All I can tell you is that I’m well worth it.”

Tamzin feels like she’s lining up a shot from a mile away, blood hot in her veins as she wills the wind to grant her a perfect kill, a perfect first move.

“As are my skills.”

“Do tell,” the Fallen rumbles, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “I have no need of a petty firestarter. What other so-called skills do you possess?” 

Biting back an acid reply, she steadies her nerves. She's certain this is the right tactic, the right answer, but if she's wrong-- If she manages to ruin this for Kedric, for herself--

She feels the hard press of Kedric’s knife at her waist, and she brings her hand to the hilt, reassured by the ghost of his touch.

Tamzin lifts her chin, a flash of teeth visible in a grin that borders on the feral.

“Would you like a demonstration?”


	16. Chapter 16

The fever lingers, and Jessa drifts.

She would refuse his care, if she were stronger, if she were lucid. Yet her treacherous body aches for food, for water, for relief from pain, for comfort.   

Ikriss is somehow always nearby, always ready to satisfy-- to take advantage of-- her needs. He feeds her with his own hands, praising her when she is compliant, treating her gently as reward, inflicting soft punishment when she tries to turn away, tries to resist.

She is too weary to fight him, too sick to withstand his manipulations, and so he begins to shape her to his will. She feels compelled to please him, for he is her provider, her protector, and his grace is the only thing keeping her alive, keeping her comfortable.

_Eat. Drink. Rest. Be still._

These are simple commands, at least. Jessa obeys, because she can do nothing else, because it is rewarded. She falls asleep with her head in his hand when he tends her, water or nutrient gel or food still on her lips, breath ragged with illness and fatigue.

The fever breaks.

Jessa is weak, brittle, bones visible where her body’s burnt away fat as brutally as infection. She finds something like lucidity, at last. She is clean and kept as if the filthy cell and weeks of pain were all a bad dream.

It wasn't.

Her arm is still docked, still a useless stump. She feels sick at the sight of it, often crying until Ikriss rebukes her.

His punishments are gentle, at first, for she is too weak to sit up on her own, let alone take a beating. He simply withdraws his care, and she is left alone, left in the fearful dark, until she cries out, be it from pain, hunger, or fear, and Ikriss returns, the gracious overlord, willing to forgive, so long as she begs prettily.

She lets him console her like a whipped beast, stroke her docked arm, repeats his assertions that _she deserved this, she is worthless, she owes him everything_.

Jessa feels icy fear when she realizes these words are creeping into her own thoughts, seeping like poison into the cracks he’s created.

In a moment of clarity, she decides to exert the last modicum of control she has.

She stops eating.

Ikriss would beat her bloody for her rebellion, if it wouldn’t kill her. Instead, he threatens her, cajoles her, tries to break her will. She is left alone for what feels like days, Ikriss storming back in when her head is spinning from hunger.

He grips her face in one paw, squeezing, trying to force her jaw open, her resistance to break.

“Eat,” he commands. His voice is dangerous, a promise of violence.

Jessa grits her teeth, swallowing harshly. She jerks out of his grip and turns her face away.

She is dragged out of bed by her hair, thrown to the hard floor, and beaten. He takes care, though-- Takes care to cause more pain than damage, until she cries, and he offers her one last chance.

“Eat,” he hisses, rage palpable. “Or you will wish you had.”

Jessa shakes her head, wiping blood and mucus from her face with the back of her hand.

“No.” She says. “I won’t.”

She screams when he grabs her, for all the good it will do. He drags her down, back to where she first suffered, throws her into a cell like so much trash.

She stands-- Staggers. Slides to the floor, back against the wall.  

“What do you want from me?” Jessa asks, desperate, angry, cradling her useless arm against her chest. Her eyes glow bright in the dim space, challenging him even now. “Why won’t you just let me go?”

He growls, striding forward, and she flinches, anticipating more punishment. Instead, he kneels beside her, a hand resting lightly over her throat.

“I want your obedience,” he tells her, purring as she recoils at the words. “And I _will_ have it.”

He rises, leaves, pausing in the doorway to give his orders.

“Make her eat,” he tells her jailers, baring his teeth in pleasure at her whimper of terror.  “Don’t break any teeth.” 


	17. Chapter 17

Tamzin is covered in black blood when she returns, gouts of the stuff clinging to her coat, her boots, a fine spray of it painting her cheeks in a macabre echo of the freckles that already grace them.

For a moment, Kedric sees the ghost of his dreams in that doorway, an apparition in those confident steps and certain stature. Then he sees the blood, the gore, and while it is not the rich red that runs in their own veins, he feels a spike of terror at the idea that she may be injured, that she may be in pain.

“Tamzin--”

He stands, too quickly. His glass falls. The illusion shatters with it, the noise making her shy back, away, like a skittish horse.

“Are you hurt?”

He can see she is not, though her cheeks are flushed, her breaths quick, fearful adrenaline still in her system. Still, he goes to her, runs his hands over her, seeking some wound, some injury.

She takes a deep breath-- takes his face in her bare hands.

It’s a novel sensation, so different from the usual soft touch of her well-worn gloves. He falters, looking into her eyes, looking past the blood on her face.

“It’s not mine.” She reassures him, voice soothing. “I’m fine. Better than fine.”

Kedric feels an odd chill at those words, even as she rises to her toes, leaning in to kiss him.

“It’s not-- Spider?” He asks, choking on the words. “Did you--?”

Tamzin drops back to her heels, attempt at affection averted, her mouth tightening in a disapproving line.

“Do you really think I’m that stupid?”

He hesitates, then shakes his head.

“It was a job interview,” she says, not releasing him, though she seems decisively less romantic than she did a moment ago. She’s studying him, following the lines of his worry, the faint smears of blood from her own fingers on his skin. “You’re scared for me. Of me.”

“Tamzin…”

He says her name like a prayer, but he doesn’t deny it.

“Right.” She sighs. She feels oddly relieved. “Do you want to know, or will the details make it worse for you?”

Kedric starts to answer, but he sees her disapproval at his rush to reply. He lifts his own hands to cover hers, taking time to consider the question.

“I want to know.” He decides. “I’ll worry if I don’t.”

Tamzin smiles, then, as if she’s seen something she likes in the way his face softens, the way his fingers caress her own.

“I killed something troublesome,” she tells him, satisfaction palpable in the words. “Slowly. With an audience.”

“... Oh.”

Kedric waits to feel something about this, some resurgence of the dread he’d first experienced when he found her covered in Psion blood. He feels nothing, though-- Nothing but relief that she is well, that she hasn’t angered the Spider, that her eyes are clear and her mind is her own.

Tamzin watches these emotions play over his face, waiting for the fear, the disgust, the anger.

Instead, he leans in. Kisses her.

“I’m glad.” Kedric says. She lets him stay close, nose to nose. “I was worried about you.”

“And you aren’t now?” She strokes his soft blue cheeks with her thumbs, wondering why she feels like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. “You’re frightened instead?”

“No. Not the way I was.” Kedric brings his hands to her throat, her hair, brushing it back, watching the crusted blood disintegrate, falling onto her pale cheeks like ashes. “It doesn’t matter if you scare me sometimes, Tamzin. I won’t stop loving you. I won’t let you go.”

He imagines how much it would hurt to end her, if she did try to leave him. He imagines how it would feel to snap her delicate neck. To see the Light leave her for the last time.

It’s hard to think about that, though-- Hard to imagine, when she kisses him the way she always does in his dreams, her sharp little teeth scraping his lip before she pulls away.

“You’re stuck with me,” she promises, close, soft, the sour scent of stale ether her perfume. Still, she’s seductive, and he lets his hands fall to her waist, drawing her in.

“Let’s--” he starts, ready to take her to bed, take advantage of her good mood.

“--get something to eat.” Tamzin cuts him off, finishes his sentence, a mischievous grin on her face as his face falls in disappointment. “All that work made me hungry, you know." 


	18. Chapter 18

“Jessa.”

The hands that touch her are gentle, but she still gags as they find her cheek, her bruised jaw. She can’t suppress the reflex. Not without effort.

This Vandal isn’t here to force food down her throat, though. There is a soft, tender rumble-- A familiar sound. She opens her eyes, and she sees a face she recognizes.

“Kelliss?” Her voice is dry, disused, lips cracked and bleeding from even this small movement. Still, she sits up, or starts to. Kelliss holds her, supports her, drawing her into an awkward approximation of a human embrace. “Kelliss, you came for me.”

“Jessa. Poor thing,” the Fallen sighs, easing into a more comfortable position as the girl begins to shake, crying silently against her, clinging to her with the arm she has left. “Don't cry, my friend. I’m here.”

Jessa couldn’t stop crying if she wanted to, exhausted as she is. Still, she flinches when her friend shifts, expecting a blow, crying harder when the touch that follows is no more than a caress.

“Did you…” Jessa starts to ask, pausing to sniffle, to let Kelliss dab at her wet cheeks with her cowl.

_Did you come to help me escape?_

She doesn’t want to hear the answer. She already knows what it will be.

“Why are you here?”

The Vandal seems to shrink at the question, ever so slightly. Disappointment, perhaps, or regret.

“You’ve been eating on your own,” she finally replies. “He wants you back.”

Jessa wants to burst into tears again, to scream, to beat her fist against the wall, though she knew this was coming. She’d _wanted_ it.

Part of her still does.

“He’s changing me,” she whispers, an edge of desperation in her voice. “He’s doing something… to me.”

“Don’t fight him, Jessa.” Kelliss is pleading with her, yet the words break something inside Jessa, break the last of her hope like so much glass. “He’ll be fair, Jessa, once you’re obedient. That’s the way things work.”

“I’m not one of you,” she protests. “He’s not my Kell.”

“Oh, Jessa.” The Vandal sounds sad, but not the sort of sadness Jessa wants her to feel. She isn’t sad to see her like this. She isn’t sad this happened. She’s sad she hasn’t accepted her place yet. Sad she hasn’t learned. “You became his the moment you came here. You docked yourself the day you decided to steal from him.”

Jessa wants to feel anger. She wants to feel something that might give her the energy to keep fighting.

She feels none of these things, though. She just feels hollow.

“Will he hurt me?” Jessa asks, rubbing her eyes with back of her hand, trying to ignore the way her voice shakes. “Will he send me back here?”

Kelliss hesitates, stroking her friend’s hair, head tilted slightly as she watches her try to steel herself.

“I don’t think he’ll hurt you,” she finally replies. “If you don’t give him a reason to.”


	19. Chapter 19

The months pass, and the System moves on, the eternal orbits that seem so detached from life in the asteroid fields. They watch the planets, sometimes, burning bright through the faint clouds of gas that encompass the Shore.

Normal used to be a bed in the Tower, a hot meal from a street vendor, a hot bath in the communal bathhouse. Normal was comfort, a respite from the grit and gore of their work outside the City walls. Normal was a sense of purpose, even if it felt futile more often than not.

Now, normal is a pile of blankets and rags as bedding. Normal’s freeze-dried rations and nutrient gel, with heavy nights of too-hard liquor made for inhuman blood and irretrievable nights. Normal is days covered in dust and debris, broken by the hours they indulge in sorry excuses for baths with water they boil themselves, savoring the feeling of each other’s clean skin and damp hair.

Tamzin is herself, as well as she can be. Some days she’s unshakeable, while others find her skittish, anxious, jumping at the smallest of unexpected sounds.

Kedric begins to see the patterns, the things that make her jump, make her recoil, make her pupils dilate and her heart rate rise. Broken glass, high-pitched noises, being touched certain ways when she’s not looking at the hand doing the grabbing.

He is learning the shape of her terror, their intimacies teaching him the map of scars that grace her pale flesh, the moonlight glow of the eye that is not her own.

“No Hive,” she tells the Spider-- Told Kedric. Her expression is cold and hard. “That’s final.”

“Are you scared of those pests?” Their employer laughs, as if it were silly, as if she were joking. “A Guardian like you?”

Kedric watches her hand rise, go to her forearm, her face, then drop again, as if recalling that she is being watched, being judged.

“Yes.” Tamzin keeps her voice flat, devoid of emotion. “I meant what I said. No Hive.”

He comes to her, though she is but a step away. He slips an arm around her, feeling the anxiety seeping from her body in a way no one else can.

“You heard her.” He smiles at Spider, half-sheepish, attempting to ease the tension in the room. “No jobs with Hive.”

She has nightmares, that night, and she won’t go back to sleep. He kisses her scars, one by one, all the same, until she’s his once more. He keeps silent, until she speaks.

“You know the story, don’t you?” He pauses, looks up at her. The light in their room is always there, always glowing on these sickly hull-torn walls, yet it’s dim enough that he can see the tears on her cheek in the faint blue glow of her eye. “The scars?”

He falters, for a moment. He knows of Titan, certainly. He has heard her passing mentions of Mars, of how they met. But the details? The particulars?

“The Hive,” he finally says. He presses his lips to her side, to a long, jagged mark. “You told me that.”

She is silent for a long time, then. He thinks she’s fallen asleep, drifted away as he traces his way down her body.

“There was an infestation of Hive in a reclaimed zone near Freehold,” she begins, in the voice she uses for these things, these histories. The voice she uses when she’s distancing herself from a tale. “This is what I remember.”


	20. Chapter 20

Sometimes Jessa closes her eyes, and she feels whole again. 

“It’s chafing,” her master remarks, examining the line where prosthetic meets flesh. “Do not let it fester.” 

“I won’t.” She resists the urge to pull away, to hide it from him. It’ll earn her nothing but a blow, if she does, and he’s been in such good humor recently. “I just want to get my work done.” 

After the last of her rebellions, he let her suffer, crippled, helpless, propped at his side like a tame hound. He became her god, only his good graces between her and pain. He let her struggle, let her collapse beneath the weight of her shame and hopelessness. 

Ikriss made sure she was broken, and then he gave back that which he took away. 

Her work is easier, now. Her work is something to keep her mind occupied, keep her from fretting. She works until she can work no more, until she can dream of better and worse futures than the one she knows. 

She flexes her hand. Her fingers. Mechanical, foreign, but functional nonetheless. Responsive enough to feel real. The connections still hurt, more often than not, but if she complains, she will be rebuked or dosed with ether. The choice between more pain and being too numb to function as more than the pet he’s made her is one she’d rather not make. 

Still-- Some days, she wouldn’t mind feeling nothing, thinking nothing, no matter how ill it makes her feel at the end. 

“I updated the systems in life support,” she reports. She wonders when her voice began to sound so normal again, even with the fatigue fraying the edges of her words. “Efficiency should be improved now.” 

“Good,” he says. “Very good. And the rest?” 

The rest? Jessa feels her heart sink. That alone took twelve hours, crawling from panel to panel, back and legs cramping as she worked. She tries not to think about how many hours of work are looming, how angry he might be if she fell asleep on the job. 

“I can do it,” she says. “I just… I just came to report.” 

“Jessa,” he warns, grip tightening. He knows when she’s lying. It just depends whether or not he cares today. “Do not deceive me.” 

“... I need to sleep. And eat.” She wants to collapse. If he drew her into his lap and pet her like a dog, as the fancy sometimes takes him, she’d pass out immediately, shame be damned. “I’m tired.” 

He studies her, taking her in from bloodshot eyes to wavering stance. He pets her cheek with one huge paw, grunting in satisfaction when she closes her eyes and doesn’t pull away. 

“Go on, then.” Ikriss releases her. Waves her away. Benevolent, tonight. “Rest. Return when you’re finished.” 

She won’t remember staggering back to her room. Her cell. She’s so tired she feels brittle, as though her bones might shatter, crumble to dust within her. 

Kelliss intercepts her, as she always does when she can manage it. She lets her friend sag into her arms, bears her up, helps her back to her quarters. 

“Come on,” she says, easing her to the floor, gently beginning to wipe away the grease and oil and solder from Jessa’s skin, clicking sympathetically at new burns and abrasions she uncovers. “Hands.” 

The girl holds her arms up, mute, blank, too tired to resist, too worn out to speak as she’s bathed. The Vandal makes soothing noises as she works, a routine that’s become familiar by now.

If it weren’t for Kelliss, Jessa would just fall into bed and sleep. She’d take the blow for being filthy, for not taking care of herself. 

The Fallen puts salve on Jessa’s arm, the angry blisters where metal rubs against flesh. The girl stares past her, beyond her, as if it had nothing to do with her at all. 

“That’s better, isn’t it?” Kelliss asks. “Now you can sleep, and wake up feeling clean.” 

“... Clean.” Jessa says. She seems faintly puzzled by the idea. “I don’t think I’ll ever feel clean again.” 

Kelliss sighs. She eases the Awoken to her feet, guiding her over to her bedding.  

“Sleep, my friend.” 

But Jessa is already gone, limp and heavy as can be as the Fallen lowers her to the makeshift mattress, a paw behind her head. Kelliss covers her with blankets, gently drawing her metal arm out from beneath her and draping it across her stomach. 

She powers down the lights as she leaves, glancing both ways down the corridor before scuttling away, fading unseen into the endless noise and activity of the ship's lower levels. 


	21. Chapter 21

“Let’s try this again.” Kedric takes a deep breath, putting his hands on Tamzin’s shoulders. “We’re going to hijack a ship.”

“Right.” Tamzin sips her tisane through a straw, grimacing at the bitter taste. “I got that.”

Kedric takes another slow breath, resisting the urge to slap the cup from her hands.

“We’re going to take the weapons and munitions.”

“As you do.” 

“You’re going to make sure the pilot and guards don’t kill us.”

“Of course.”

“And you aren’t going to kill anyone.”

Tamzin sighs and rolls her eyes.

“Anyone, Tamzin. Anyone at all.”

“Even if they attack me?” She’s being petulant. “Even if they’ve got a Ghost?”

“In that situation? Guardians, fine, whatever. But you’re not killing any Humans. Anyone who can’t pop back up is off limits.”

“That seems strict,” she frowns. “If it’s self-defense--”

“It’s not self-defense if you’re the one robbing their ship,” he interjects. “Nobody will see it that way. Especially not the Vanguard.”

“Why do you care what the Vanguard thinks?” She tilts her head, curious. The dim light of the bar makes the faint glow of her prosthetic eye all the more obvious. 

“Because I would rather not have to add some kind of bounty or Praxic hit squad to our list of problems, Tamzin.”

He’s exasperated. It makes her smile, which doesn’t help his anxiety. Something skitters down the hallway, and he wonders if there are spies listening to them.

Probably. Spider probably has his entire stronghold bugged to the gills. 

“You have to take this seriously.” 

“I am.” She takes another sip of her drink, humming softly. “I’m not going to just cap a civilian for no reason, you know.”

“I need you to not do it even if you have a reason, is the thing.”

“What if they hurt me?”

“If anyone hurts you badly enough that killing is required, I will take care of it.” He strokes her cheek with his thumb, a grudging sign of affection. “Don’t use your abilities, either. The last thing I need is an oxygen fire.”

“Oh, that would be fun.” She seems delighted by the idea. “Just a huge fireball, blooming out there in orbit.”

“Maybe I should just do this on my own,” Kedric says, tone helpless.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Tamzin leans over and kisses him smartly on the lips. “I’ll behave wonderfully. Anything that goes wrong will have nothing to do with me.”

“I love you,” he sighs. “I love you so much.”

“As long as you don’t forget it,” she grins. “When do we leave?”


	22. Chapter 22

“Hey, wake up.” The Hunter taps her copilot until he wakes up, grumbling. “It’s time to radio in.” 

Titan looms large on the monitors, the debris of Saturn’s rings drifting past lazily. She taps the yoke, pulling away from a larger cluster of rock, course correcting to buzz past a larger asteroid. There’s a soft bump on the roof, a few pieces of debris. 

“Just a tap,” the Hunter reassures her copilot. “No damage alarms.” 

“Keep it smooth,” the man warns, leaning forward to stretch his cramping back muscles. “Last thing I want is a lecture from Sloane about how important these damn ships are.” 

“There’s no way we don’t hit some rocks out here,” the Hunter rolls her eyes, flipping a few switches, adjusting their speed. “Titan Command, come in.” 

There’s silence, crackling. A beep. 

“That’s weird.” She frowns, flipping more switches, cycling the power on the comms array. “It’s saying we don’t have a signal.” 

“Probably that tap from those rocks.” The Warlock gives her a meaningful look, but she just makes a face in response. “I’ll go check it out.” 

“No need.” The female voice followed the sound of a transmat, her mag boots hitting the deck with a light click. “We’ve already got a technician on the job.” 

The Guardians are on their feet, turning to see the intruder. She’s got a Ghost. She’s a Guardian, too. 

That realization is enough to make them falter. 

Tamzin smiles, leveling her hand cannons at the pair, tilting her head as she cocks the weapons with a satisfying simultaneous click. 

“Please sit down.” She glances to the seats they just vacated. “I’d hate to make a mess, and I’m sure you don’t want to spend your night cleaning blood off the panels.” 

“Who the fuck are you?” The Hunter starts forward, stumbling on the edge of the footwell. 

“Watch your step.” Tamzin stifles a laugh, keeping her aim on the Hunter’s head as she tries to get back to her feet. “We’re here for the cargo, that’s all.” 

“Do you really think you can take two of us?” The Warlock is lifting a hand, preparing to attack. 

“Here’s the thing,” the bandit replies, taking a step back, out of his direct range. “You can sit down, or you can die. If your Ghosts pop out to bring you back before we’re done, I’ll leave this ship in pieces, and you can go on a permanent spacewalk.” 

The Warlock lowers his hand, face suddenly looking pale. 

“It’s just guns and scrap,” he says. “Why would you go that far for it?” 

“I don’t like pain, mostly.” Tamzin shrugs, watching the Hunter steady herself on the hull. “I want the money we’ll get for it. And just imagine the Vanguards’ faces, how  _ devastated _ they’d be if I managed to be your final deaths…” She pauses, taking a deep breath, as if savoring the idea. 

“You’re fucking crazy,” the Hunter snarls. 

“Apparently.” She sighs. “Do you want to sit down, or do I have to play demolition expert?” 

The two look at each other, then ease back into their seats. 

“What’s your name?” The Warlock asks her. “How long have you been out here?” 

“Trying to humanize yourself? Make it harder for me to kill you?” Tamzin grins, a lopsided expression. “I’m Tamzin. Roasted a civilian a while back. I’m sure you heard about it, one way or another.” 

“I’m Maddoc,” he replies, keeping his voice event. “This is Mirza.” 

“You’ve got matching names,” Tamzin smirks. “That’s adorable.” 

There’s noise in the cargo hold. The two try to peer behind her, but Tamzin doesn’t move, doesn’t so much as flinch. 

“Should be only a few minutes,” she sighs. “Do you have any snacks?” 

“Not for you,” the Hunter snarls. 

“I’m not going to ask  _ you _ to get them,” Tamzin sniffs. “You’d spit in the bag.” 

“Can you please leave the food,” Maddoc asks, tone pleading, “and the medical supplies? The people stationed out here need--” 

“We’re not taking those.” She sighs. She seems annoyed. Impatient. The pilots share a quick glance. 

“All done,” her Ghost says. 

Tamzin fires, and the consoles explode in sparks, making the Guardians recoil back against their seats to avoid the shrapnel. 

The Hunter is out of her seat in an instant, diving for Tamzin. The Warlock stands up, but there’s another shot. A thud. 

The smoke and blood clears, and the bandit is gone. Mirza’s corpse floats, a perfect hole between her eyes, blood drops floating around her like some surreal underwater tableau. 

“Shit,” Maddoc swears, running past the body as her Ghost begins to resurrect her, yanking open the hatch to the hold. “Oh, shit. They took everything.” 

Mirza is back, beating the demolished console with her fists. 

“We’re going to be stuck here,” she curses. “The radio’s dead!” 

Maddoc picks something up from the floor of near-empty hold, staring at it, unsure if he should laugh or cry. 

“They left the damn radio components,” he calls to his partner. “We just… have to get out there and put it back together.” 

Mirza swears, kicking the console. All she gets for her efforts is a shower of sparks before the ship goes dark. 


	23. Chapter 23

Jessa’s head is spinning.

If she had somehow acted happier, been more interesting, this wouldn’t be happening.

That’s what she tells herself, at least. That’s what her master told her.

Her master?

Jessa rubs her face, flinching at the hard pressure of her metal palm, adjusting accordingly.

Ikriss. Ikriss. Ikriss. Not _master_. She can’t think like this.

He’s upset with her. He’s disappointed. He’s going to punish her.

“Hey.”

The Awoken man puts a hand on her thigh. She grits her teeth until she can hear them creak.

“Hey. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Good,” she snaps. “I hope I do. I hope I die, and then he’ll have to find someone else to be interesting.”

He looks startled, then sad.

Pitying.

It makes her want to hit him.

“He hurt your feelings.” He sounds incredulous. “You’re upset that he said those things.”

Jessa shakes her head, but she can’t say it. She can’t voice the lie, no matter how shameful it is to let the truth stand.

“How long have you been here?” He asks, concern in his voice. “What has he done to you?”

Jessa laughs-- makes a sound like a laugh.

“I don’t know. He takes care of me.”

“Takes care of you? He’s trying to breed you like an animal.”

“I didn’t hear you protesting! Just apologies, like that would fix anything, like that would make this better.”

Her new companion doesn’t embrace her. He doesn’t try to comfort her. He just watches her, studies her. Keeps his hand on her leg, as if he’d hold her here, in this reality.

She tries not to think about his hands. Tries not to remember how good they felt, yet repulsive at the same time. Her first contact with one of her own kind in months, if not years, and it was-- It was--

_Mount her._

Soft, gentle, Awoken hands, spreading her legs, gripping her sides, cupping her breasts, finding ways to _please_ her.

And yet--

Yet it’s better to think about his hands. That feeling. Better than the memory Ikriss leering at her, Ikriss chuckling in delight as his _gift_ made her moan, made her whimper, made her--

“I’m sorry,” the man’s saying. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“I liked it.” She spits out the words, disgusted with them, disgusted with herself. “I liked it. And he liked it. And you liked it, too.”

He bites his lip. Good. She doesn’t want to hear him deny it.

“I should go see him.” She closes her eyes, steadying herself. “I should make sure he’s not upset with me.”

“... I can’t stop you,” he says.

His voice is so soft that it makes her stop. Makes her look at him.

His eyes are gold, cat gold, smart and bright. She wonders how she didn’t notice them before.

“I can’t stop you, but I want you to know you don’t have to go.” He keeps his hand on her leg, still. Still warm and soft, unlike every other touch she’s had these past years. “You don’t have to do this to yourself.”

Jessa stands, sharp and stiff. She brushes her hair back, behind her ears.

She still smells like sex, like sweat, and she wonders if the stench will ever go away.

“I’m sorry he’s doing this to you,” she says. “That he’s making you do this. Kill yourself, if you can. You’ll only get one chance, and it’s the only way out.”

Jessa doesn’t turn around, but she doesn’t have to. She doesn’t care about his horror.

She cares about the large hand on her head, when she sits down beside her master’s throne, and the soft rumbles of praise he’s saved for her.

“Jessa,” He acknowledges her, stroking her hair absentmindedly with a secondary hand. “Your performance was a pleasure, little witch. You have redeemed yourself.”

She closes her eyes, leaning against his leg, resting her head on his knee, letting waves of relief and twisted gratitude wash over her, drown out her disgust, her self-loathing, if only for a moment.

“Thank you,” Jessa whispers. “I’m sorry I wasn’t… interesting enough.”

His laugh is not kind, not benevolent. Still, his touch remains gentle, and she lets the world fade away.

She must have fallen asleep there. She wakes up as the Awoken man is lifting her from the ground, lifting her beside an empty throne, a mostly empty room.

“Where…?” She asks, still foggy with sleep.

“He left you here,” he replies, gentle but firm. “It’s too cold to sleep on the floor.”

He carries her to bed. He turns to leave her, give her privacy, but she reaches out. Catches his wrist.

“What’s your name?”

He falters, surprised by the question.

“... Eirian.”

“Stay.”

He shakes his head.

“You’re not thinking clearly.” He takes her hand in his own, bringing it to his lips and kissing it, soft and civil. “Rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He leaves, and it is dark. Quiet.

For the first time in a long time, Jessa does not dream.


	24. Chapter 24

They leave the crowded bar behind, though the noise follows them through the halls of Spider’s palace, a faint buzz that always seems to permeate the place. Tamzin stumbles, giggling like a schoolgirl as she half-skips down the empty corridor, bottle of liquor in hand.

“We could’ve bought a sparrow with that glimmer,” Kedric grouses, watching Tamzin take a swig from their new purchase. “And you shouldn’t drink after having an episode.”

“Oh, lighten up.” Tamzin grins at him, holding out the bottle. “We can celebrate for one night. Tomorrow we’ll be back to robbing supply ships and being very, very scary.”

“Scary?” He can’t help smiling at the idea. He catches her, catches the bottle, tugging her forward with it. She lets him, kissing him on the cheek as he catches her around the waist with his free hand. “You like being scary.”

“I do.” She confirms. She snuggles into his chest, inhaling the scent of him before she moves to his side, lets him lead the way. “What time do we have to leave?”

“Since when do you keep track?” Kedric sounds amused, taking a sip of liquor, wrinkling his nose at the sour taste. “In about eighteen Earth hours.”

“Plenty of time, then.” Tamzin purrs. “Let’s wake up the neighbors.”

“I guess we can. If you _really_ want to.” He sighs dramatically, as if it were a chore. “Are you sure you don’t want to just sleep? Get tucked in, cuddle, let Rho tell us we’re wasting our lives?”

“Excuse me,” she feigns offense, looking up at him, barely able to suppress her smile. “Mister wake up call? Mister ‘one more time’? Telling me, the person with a _normal_ sex drive, that he doesn’t want to take my clothes off?”

“Darling,” Kedric grins, poking her in the cheek with the neck of the bottle. “You’re as bad as I am. You just sleep more soundly.”

“Come on then, bandit boy.” Tamzin shrugs off her coat as the enter their room, letting it fall to the floor, grinning as Kedric picks it up to drape neatly over a pipe on the wall. “Let’s work off some of that excess energy.”

Kedric kisses her, possesses her. He remembers the way her lips felt, the way her skin tasted--

“ _Kedric!_ Wake up!”

Kessy’s voice, screaming. Hot air on his face.

 _Pain_.

He gasps, a breath that feels like a knife in the chest, eyes snapping open.

“Tamzin?” He is sunblind, breathless, reaching out to either side, seeking her. “Tamzin!”

“She’s not here.” The Ghost sounds worried. Kessy never sounds worried. “You got separated.”

“W- We have to go.” He drags himself upright, a sitting position. Sand, everywhere. One leg is gone. His other leg is broken, shattered, a mess of gore and bone and shrapnel sticking out at odd angles.

“I can’t fix that,” she tells him. “I have to start over. Hurry.”

Kedric grits his teeth, and reaches for his gun. It’s still at his hip, thankfully, blessedly intact.

“Start scanning for Rho."

He closes his eyes, and pulls the trigger.


	25. Chapter 25

Another night of this. Quick, at least, this time. Jessa doesn’t know how many nights it’s been, how many weeks. It doesn’t matter anymore, in the end.

Ikriss is bored easily tonight, or perhaps he’s just restless. He leaves with nothing but a dismissive noise of approval once they’ve finished, abandoning them in the dim, rarely-used room he calls his own.

They stay like that, for a while. Catching their breath. Eirian, gentle, making sure she’s satisfied before easing away, brushing a soft, apologetic kiss across her collarbone.

They’re back in her room, now. She tries to remember dressing. Coming back here.

Eirian is cleaning her, every inch, as if she were something fragile. She watches, wondering why he takes such care for her.

“How long were you here?” She asks. “Before… this started.”

They don’t speak like this. Not since that first night. She’s been trying not to get attached. Trying not to think of him as a person.

He looks up at her. His eyes are the color of honey, she thinks.

“A few months, or so.” He puts more water on the cloth, gently wiping her thighs. “Not long.”

“Abducted?”

“No.” He pauses, considering that answer. “Well, not really. I was injured by some Cabal defectors on Earth while I was hunting. His scavengers found me. Brought me back and let me recover.”  

Jessa feels faintly nauseous as the meaning of his words sinks in. Ikriss had been planning this for months, keeping his new toy hidden away, letting Jessa live in ignorant bliss.

“You should run.” She says it softly, as if someone will overhear them. “Get away while you can.”

He doesn’t pause. Doesn’t look at her. Carefully washes away their mess, leaving her skin feeling cold in the artificial air.

“I don’t want to.” He shrugs. “I’m safe here.”

“Why?” His indifference makes her uneasy.

Eirian laughs. It sounds bitter.

“You’re Reefborn, aren’t you?” He doesn’t wait for her to answer. “You’ve never gone hungry a day in your life. Never had to survive on Earth.”

“... No. Not before this,” she admits. “Just… since I’ve been out here. Since the war.”

“There’s always a war,” he corrects her. “It’s all the same endless war.”

She’s silent.

He sighs. He picks up a new cloth, and begins cleaning her stomach. Her breasts.

His head is close enough to rest on her shoulder, if he wanted to. Close enough for her to smell his skin. It’s a pleasant scent, even when mixed with the sharp smell of the soap.

“I’m sorry. I know what they did to you.” He’s being nice again. Being kind. “I was… easier. But I know when to give up. I’m safer here than I was in the wilds. Three meals a day and a warm place to sleep.”

“And a whore for your bed,” she supplies. “Even better.”

Eirian hesitates. “I didn’t… know about you.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Her voice is a bit too sharp. She can’t help it. She doesn’t know how to feel, how she ought to feel. “I begged him to let you go. I begged him not to make us-- “

“I know.” He smiles, a sad, sympathetic expression. “But we’re here now, and we’ll have to make the best of it.”

“The best of it.” Jessa repeats, voice cold. “How do you make the best of it if you manage to bounce a brat into me? Some new _pet_ for him?”

Eirian takes her hand in his-- Her flesh hand, her own hand.

“We can prevent it,” he says, voice soft. “I’ll find a way.”

She scoffs.

“Don’t be stupid. He always gets what he wants.”

Eirian’s face shifts, and she sees despair. He doesn’t have an answer.

Jessa smiles.

At least she’s not alone anymore.


	26. Chapter 26

Tamzin knows she’s in pieces.

The only thing keeping her alive is a panel from the ship’s hull, pinning her to the earth. She must have a severed spine, she thinks, because she can’t move. She can’t feel her limbs.

All she can feel is agony, and the beating sun on her skin.

“I’m sending out a beacon,” Rho assures her. The Ghost nestles beside her head on the sand, as if she wants to comfort her.

Tamzin wonders how bad it must be, if Rho is being nice.

It’s very bad. She knows that much. She can blink. She can breathe. She can swallow, somehow, though each mouthful tastes like blood.

But she can’t speak. And she can’t move.

“Kedric is coming. You know he’ll come.” Rho is still talking. Still trying to distract her. “Think about something else. Try to sleep.”

 _Try to die,_ she means.

Tamzin closes her eyes against the brutal sun, the brutal heat. She can feel her skin burning. Her helmet’s gone, shattered somewhere, far away.

She finds herself tracing old songs in her mind, the songs she once sang to this sun. It makes the heat ease, ever so slightly, as if it hears her call.

Tamzin remembers.

The ship, a piece of junk. The pilot bailing as they entered orbit, as they heard the entire ship shudder, scream, begin to fall apart.

“I can’t save it,” she’d told Kedric, panicking, trying every trick she can think of to pull it up. “It’s going to disintegrate.”

“We’ll jump,” he’d replied, calm, trying to reassure her. He took her hands, and smiled, as if he knew everything would be fine. “I’ll be right here with you.”

He isn’t, though. Something hit them. Debris. Hands separating, and then--

 _Grant me the fire,_ she repeats. _Bless us with Light._

She can’t die. She is engulfed in this pain, paralyzed, even as the sun begins to set on some horizon she can’t see, save the light reflected in the panel that’s cutting her in half. Holding her together.

Tamzin hears her breaths rattle, bubble in her lungs.

The songs aren’t helping anymore.

 _Kedric_.

She wishes for him. She tries to think of him, tries to drown out this pain with the memory of him.

“Kedric!”

Rho is screaming his name. Tamzin heaves in a breath, another, drowning, unable to do so much as choke.

He’s here. He’s falling to his knees beside her, a hand on her head, her face, the other…

She can’t feel his other hand.

“Tamzin,” he says, again, and again, like a prayer. “Tamzin, oh, Tamzin. I’m here. I'm right here, darling.”

She can’t say anything. Can’t move. She just closes her eyes.

“She’s been like this for hours,” Rho’s saying, voice soft. “Help her.”

She hears Kedric hesitate. She opens her eyes, and she sees the way he’s looking at her, sees the horror as he realizes the state of her body.

 _Please_ , she wills him. _Please. Just do it._

Kedric kisses her on the brow.

Kedric kills her.


	27. Chapter 27

She drops her pliers again, and the screen goes dark. 

Jessa doesn’t move to pick them up. She closes her eyes, sits in the dark, and focuses on the heat behind her eyes, the heat that she can’t let out. 

She fails, this time. The tears come out, and she has to smother her sobs against her arm, biting into her own flesh until she tastes blood, until she feel she might faint from the exertion of suppressing the noise. 

“Jessa.” 

It’s Eirian. She can’t see him clearly in this dim light, but she knows he’s bruised, knows he’s aching, even as he stiffly falls to his knees beside her, wraps his arms around her. 

“It’s okay,” he says. “It’ll be fine.” 

“No, it won’t.” She shakes her head. “It isn’t fine. He hurt you. He said he’ll dock her. Because of me.” 

Eirian doesn’t know what to say. He just holds her as tightly as he can, though he favors his side. He lets her cry. 

“It’s only a few months.” He whispers. “And then we can pretend it never happened.” 

“Kill me.” She begs. “Please. Kill me. He won’t get me, he won’t be able to make me have it. I’ll be free.” 

He stiffens. 

“Jessa, I can’t.” He shakes his head, though he doesn’t withdraw his embrace. “You’re my friend now. And I know you can get through this.  _ We _ can get through it. We’ll outlast him, one way or another.” 

She clutches her stomach, digging her fingers into the fabric, into the skin, as if she’d tear herself apart to get rid of the cells growing inside of her. 

“I’d do it,” she says, accusing. “I’d kill you, if you asked me to.” 

“I’m asking you to live for me, instead.” He closes his eyes, and buries his face in her hair. “Survive for me. And I’ll do everything I can to make things easier for you.” 

Jessa is quiet for a long minute. He draws back to see her face, as well as he can, to see if she is still crying, but she turns to look at him, instead, catches his face with her hands, drawing herself up to kiss him. 

“Jessa--” he says, breaking away, holding her wrists. “Jessa, no. We don’t have to. He’s not going to call for us tonight.” 

“I’m not doing it for him,” she replies, tone sharp. “I want you  _ now _ . Without him watching. Without anyone telling us what to do.” 

Eirian hesitates, searching her eyes for some sign of-- What? Madness? Hysteria? 

He doesn’t know. 

“Why?” 

Jessa kisses him again, letting it linger. He softens, feeling the desperation there, her raw, open need for affection. 

“I want to feel good. I want to feel like someone cares,” she says, closing her eyes, pressing her forehead to his own. “And I don’t need his permission to do that.”


	28. Chapter 28

Rho brings her back, and she collapses into Kedric’s arms, clinging to him as if frightened he’ll be torn away once more. 

“Don’t look,” he says, trying to guide her away from the gruesome scene. “Don’t look.” 

But she does, because there’s nothing else to see in this waste except the pieces of her, the pieces that she was still inhabiting until moments before. 

She is sick at the sight, retching on the sand. 

“Stop!” Rho commands. “You’re going to dehydrate. There’s no water. We don’t know where we are.” 

She can’t help it, though. 

She has to carry the taste of bile in her mouth as they walk. 

They walk until their legs give out. They sleep like desert foxes, curled up beneath Kedric’s cloak on the endless sand. 

“How far?” Kedric asks the Ghosts, voice cracking from heat. “How much longer?” 

They both hesitate. They don’t know. 

He closes his eyes. 

Toward their next end, he carries Tamzin, though she tells him not to waste his strength. 

“We have to keep going,” he tells her. Her eyes are dull, her lips red with her own dried blood. “If we stop, we’ll be here forever.” 

“Don’t leave me behind,” she says. “Just… slow down. I’m just so tired.” 

They sleep. They die. 

They’re still hungry when they come back. Still thirsty. Tamzin cries, though the tears won’t come, clutching her stomach. 

“There has to be someone here,” Kedric tells her, reassures her. “We’ll find someone.” 

There isn’t someone. There isn’t any water or food, either. 

There is only sand.

They walk. 

Tamzin’s dying again, fading in his arms, breath coming in gasps as her organs fail, blood seeping from her nose as he tells her the fanciful stories he’s read when she was away on missions, when he was alone in the City. 

He’s stroking her hair, holding her close, trying to ease her into the dark. 

She blacks out, finally. He holds his hand over her nose and mouth, and closes his eyes as she jerks, shudders in his embrace, and then goes limp. 

It’ll be his turn, soon. But he knows she can’t bring herself to do it. 

“Wait,” he tells Rho. The Ghost hovers, uncertain. “Let me.” 

He shoots himself, and lets the sand cover his body as he walks on, walks away. 

Rho resurrects her at his side. She doesn’t see his body. Her own blood smears on her cheek when he brushes her hair back. 

“We’re going to die here,” she says. “Forever.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “No. I won’t let that happen.” 

Kedric can only hope that fate doesn’t make him a liar. 


	29. Chapter 29

They’re nearly dead when the Fallen find them. They wear colors, an unfamiliar House marking, but they don’t attack them. 

“We’re Spider’s people,” Kedric says. Tamzin is on her knees beside him, panting, ready to fight until her last breath, though he has told her they are surrendering “We need help.” 

They hiss something, but when the Guardians simply stare back at them, they move to prod them. They lead them away. 

More walking. 

These hours feel like centuries. Tamzin staggers soon enough, falls, body giving out more easily each time they repeat this process, crying out in fear when the Fallen try to help her back to her feet. 

“Let me,” Kedric says. He holds out his hands, and after a moment’s deliberation, they let him pick her up. 

“They’re not going to hurt us,” he reassures her. “Rest.” 

She has a seizure. He grits his teeth, and stops her breath once more. 

They hiss when he drops to his knees, when he lowers her corpse to the sand, brushing a final kiss across her lifeless brow. They move back like scalded cats when Rho resurrects her. She can walk, though. Walk for a little longer. 

“A few more steps,” he tells her. “We can take just a few more, can’t we?” 

She hides her face in her hands, for a moment, shuddering as she cries, if only a few sobs that produce no tears. 

He draws her into his arms and holds her until she’s composed herself. 

“I can do it,” she finally says. She sounds so tired that his heart aches. “I can make it.” 

He takes her hand, and nods to the Fallen. 

They are brought to a ship. Taken to a Ketch.  

Once they sit down, Tamzin can’t get back up. He keeps his arms around her, holding her, tightening his grip slightly with each slight bump or shudder of the ship. 

He carries her aboard, when they dock. Keeps her in his lap when he’s directed to sit. She buries her face in his neck, and they stay that way, exhausted, anxious, waiting to find out what will come next.

They’re given water. Food. Something  _ like _ food, at least. 

Tamzin seems hollowed out by their journey, and she dozes off once they’ve eaten, though he keeps waking her up to make her drink more water, eat a little more food. 

“Where are we?” She asks him, voice soft, dry. “Are we prisoners?” 

“I don’t know,” he admits. He gives her another sip of water, before taking one for himself. His eyes are watching everything around them, alert for any threat. “I don’t think so.” 

A Vandal approaches them, starts speaking. They both stare blankly, before Kedric looks to Tamzin. 

“I don’t speak Eliksni,” she explains, feeling slightly sheepish-- A sense of deja vu at the words. “Do you, uh… Do you speak any Human languages?” 

The Vandal looks like it would roll its eyes, if it could. It disappears, returning with a vocal synth and an attitude. 

“Better?” It asks.  _ She _ asks. A female. 

“Yeah, actually,” Tamzin says. “Thanks.” 

“You said you’re Spider’s.” The Vandal is looking them over, making it apparent they’re a sorry sight. “Is that true?” 

“Depends who you ask,” Tamzin mumbles. Kedric puts a hand on her knee. 

“Yes. It’s true.” He dips his head, respectful. “We crashed. We just need to recover, and find a way back to the Reef.” 

“We’ll deal with that later.” The Vandal gestures, indicating they should stand. “Ikriss would like to see you.” 


	30. Chapter 30

As the Guardians are brought aboard the Ketch, fed and watered in some distant chamber, Jessa and Eirian are entangled on her bed, her back to his chest, his arms wrapped around her, finding the peace of the exhausted. 

There’s a commotion on the ship, then an odd stillness. The change makes Jessa stir, stretching out in Eirian’s arms. 

“Mm. I should… get up.” 

Jessa’s still half-asleep, despite her words. Eirian hums in something that could be assent, though he doesn’t move. Doesn’t take his arm from beneath her head, or his hand from her side. 

“Rest.” He finally says, as if it’s taken him this long to compose the idea. “You need to rest.” 

His hand slides to her belly, covers it. It’s growing, despite her efforts. She hasn’t tried to rid herself of it since the Baron beat Eirian to punish her for her last attempt, since he threatened to dock Kelliss if she rebelled again. 

Kelliss has acquiesced 

Eirian can’t deny that he feels a shameful sort of pride, some relief, a sense of hope that soon he’ll be able to feel it move inside her. 

“I don’t, really.” She starts to protest, starts to argue, but he just pulls her closer, nuzzles his face into her neck. Jessa huffs, then yawns, closing her eyes. 

She doesn’t mind staying in bed, really, but it makes her anxious. She wants to work. She wants to keep her mind occupied. 

Eirian’s had dreams. First, he said, dreams about her, heavy with his child. Now he dreams about a Corsair, a regal officer, with his eyes and her hair. 

She doesn’t like to think about his dreams. Not all of them are prophetic, even for her own people, and they could be wrong. 

But when he kisses her, chaste, hands on her swelling belly, she knows he’s not wrong. 

“Jessa.” Eirian is letting a hand drift to her breasts, tracing the curve of one, cupping the weight. “You’ve gotten larger.” 

She grumbles, pushing his hand away. 

“I haven’t. And don’t touch them,” she warns. “I’m too tired for that.” 

“I thought you didn’t need to rest.” He obeys, mumbling against her hair with a soft smile. “Not you.”

Jessa makes an irritated noise, but soon enough, she is snoring softly. Eirian lets the sound of her breathing ease him back to sleep. 

In the bowels of the Ketch, another ship docks. 


	31. Chapter 31

“He’ll give us passage,” Kedric says, voice barely above a whisper. “But he wants us to pay him back in goods or currency.”

“What the fuck?” Tamzin hisses in reply, glaring when Kedric brings a finger to her lips, telling her to lower her voice. “How are we going to do that?”

“We’re getting a loan from Spider,” he sighs, running his hand over his hair. “He already arranged the transfer, though I’m not looking forward to finding out what he’ll want as our return payment. I’m just glad the Bug dropped the idea of you staying here as collateral.”

“I’d blow the fucking ship up,” she grumbled, glaring at a nosy Dreg that’s staring at her over Kedric’s shoulder until it cowers, scuttling away. “Cook the little bastards and give the briskets to Spider for a Dawning gift.”

“I know you would, dear.” Kedric sounds resigned, placing a hand on her shoulder as he closes his eyes, tries to think. “We’ll just have to do more salvage. More interceptions, if we can.”

“Well, I know where we can find a ship,” Tamzin replies dryly. “Already disassembled and everything.”

“We’ll figure it out.” He doesn’t sound like he believes it. “We’ve gotten out of worse.”

“So now what? How long are we stuck here?” She’s already thinking ahead, though not as far as Kedric. “How do we get off this thing?”

“We’re waiting for some of his _agents_ to arrive,” Kedric replies, trying to be reassuring, though he can’t entirely suppress the sarcasm. “We’ll get a ride with them, and we’ll be back on the Shore and in our own bed before the week’s out.”

“Oh, good. Smugglers.” She doesn’t bother hiding her dry tone. “I’m sure that will be a pleasant ride.”

“Tamzin...” Kedric takes a deep breath, resisting the urge to shake her. “Darling. Beggars can’t be choosers. Either we get on the little trash ship and go home, or we stay here and you end up serving Bikrik cheese and dates in a pretty dress.”

“That’s not his name,” she rolls her eyes. “And you’ve watched way too many old world scifi vids.”

“I have. But whenever it gets here, we’re getting on the smuggler ship,” he smiles, stroking her scarred cheek with his thumb. “And we’re going home.”

“ _Fine_.” Tamzin crosses her arms over her chest, a petulant motion that makes Kedric laugh aloud.

The sound of his laughter makes the Fallen turn and stare, but they glance away quickly. Too quickly.

There’s a new noise.

Tamzin can hear footsteps echoing in the corridor, someone picking up pace, coming closer. _Human_ footsteps.

A pair of Awoken women appear around the corner behind Kedric, the taller of the pair faltering as she sees Tamzin.

Tamzin’s heart skips a beat, breath catching in her throat. The color drains from her face, even as she sees heat rising in the Awoken woman’s cheeks, shock and anger vivid in those bright green eyes.

“Darling?” Kedric frowns, his hand stilling, taking in her pallor, her stunned expression. “What’s wrong?”

Tamzin opens her mouth. She’s too slow.

“Kedric?”

Prin says his name.

The world stops spinning.

All the light and laughter is gone from Kedric’s demeanor in an instant. Tamzin feels his warmth vanish, his sudden distance.

She doesn’t want to see his expression, but she can’t help looking up.

He looks so disappointed, so angry, that she thinks he must already know what he’s about to see, though it can’t be possible, he can’t _know_ \--

“No,” Tamzin whispers, grabbing his wrist, shaking her head, as if that will somehow avert what’s coming. “No, Kedric. No.”

Kedric looks at her hand, and she sees the corner of his mouth twitch in something like disgust. He carefully pulls her fingers from his arm, dropping her limp arm as if it were a dead thing.

“That’s my name.”

Kedric turns around, and his back feels like a wall, a door slammed in Tamzin’s face. He takes in the sight of the women still standing at the end of the corridor, and brushes his hair back from his face.

“You must be my sisters.”


	32. Chapter 32

The excited chittering of the Fallen sounds like the shrieking of Thrall when it echoes like this.

Prin’s fist catches Tamzin in the eye, a blow so hard it sends the Warlock reeling, unable to recover before she falls. Even if she could right herself, the Corsair is already on top of her, hitting her again, again, until Tamzin is bloodied, stunned, Dregs howling in delight as Lia struggles to drag her wife off the Guardian. 

“Prin!” The other woman is shouting, trying to catch her arms, haul her back. 

“Stay down,” Rho says to Tamzin. The words sound tinny, the way they do when she’s had her helmet bashed into something hard. “Don’t try to get up yet.” 

Tamzin is disoriented, head ringing, choking on the taste of copper. She brings a hand to her face, feeling blood from a broken nose, a bitten tongue, missing teeth. She reaches out, grasping, expecting Kedric to be at her side, to be comforting her, as he always is, but her hand finds nothing but air. 

He is still standing apart. Watching the women. 

Refusing to look at her. 

It’s for the best, really. She doesn’t want to see that look on Kedric’s face again.

“You fucking liar,” Prin spits, yanking one arm from her wife’s grasp. “You Risen whore--” 

Tamzin swallows blood and bile, trying to focus her gaze as she drags herself upright, ignoring Rho’s protests.

She wipes her bloodied face on her sleeve, trying to find some words to fix this. 

There are none. 

“So. You’re alive.” Kedric’s words are like a knife cutting the air, and they all freeze. Tamzin feels her heart plunge into her gut, her head spinning anew, even as Rho begins patching her up.

“Of course we are,” Prin snaps. “Why wouldn’t we be?” 

He answers with silence. Prin turns her glare back on Tamzin, Lia’s grip tightening on her wife’s arm before she can lunge at the Warlock again. 

“... I told him you were.” Tamzin admits. The words burn like acid on her newly healed tongue. “I told him you were dead.”

Prin roars. Lia turns her away, shushes her, trying to soothe her rage. 

Kedric comes to Tamzin, then. He helps her to her feet. His grip on her wrist is gentle, but then it tightens, and she feels her bones creak, has to bite back a whimper of pain. 

“A moment, please.” 

He doesn’t speak to her. He doesn’t even look at her. 

He speaks to the women. His sisters. 

Prin and Lia watch as he leads her away. 

Through the gawking Fallen. Down the hall. Out of sight. 

“Kedric--” Tamzin says his name as they round a corner, ragged, desperate. “Kedric, wait.” 

He slams her against the wall so hard she feels her fractured skull shift, the world imploding in light as she closes her eyes, waiting for him to shout. 

She’s not expecting the hand at her throat, a promise of violence, a warning. 

“Kedric,” she tries to speak again, but he tightens his grip, and she whimpers, shrinks back in unfamiliar fear of him. 

“You lied to me,” he says. His voice is cold, harsh, though hardly above a whisper. “You promised you wouldn’t lie to me, but you couldn’t  _ help _ yourself, could you?” 

“I’m sorry.” Her words are slurred, vision spinning. His grip is almost too tight, and she’s breathing too fast, lightheaded, wondering if he’s about to strangle her. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize. You aren’t sorry.” Kedric lifts his other hand. He strokes her cheek, tracing the bruise that’s already blooming there. “Tamzin. Look at me.” 

She doesn’t. She can’t. 

He presses the bruise until she jerks her head back with a gasp, and he holds her there, forces her to meet his cold, livid gaze.  

“I don’t remember what you were before, but I know you now. You’re selfish. You’re manipulative. You wanted to keep me for yourself, and you thought I’d only stay if I was as lonely as you.” 

The words are like a knife to the chest. She starts to say his name, but the sound comes out as a sob of pain. 

“No more lies, Tamzin.” He sounds satisfied, as if her silence has confirmed something, as if this has vindicated him. “This is the last one, isn’t it? The last lie?” 

“... I don’t know.” She confesses. This is happening too fast, and she’s left bewildered, confused. “I’m--” 

Tamzin swallows the words. 

She isn’t sorry. 

“I wish you hadn’t found out,” she finally says. “I just wanted you to love me.” 

For some reason, that makes Kedric recoil. His hands fall away. His weight shifts back. 

“Is that what you think?” 

Tamzin doesn’t want to hear what he says next. She can’t bear to see the pain and anger in his eyes. 

“Tamzin, don’t--” 

He reaches out, tries to box her in again, but she slips past him. She leaves a smear of blood on the wall as she stumbles, narrowly avoiding another grab before righting herself and taking off.  

“Tamzin!” 

Kedric grits his teeth, watching her vanish around the corner.. 

She doesn’t turn back. She’s running as if all the pain in the world were biting at her heels. 


	33. Chapter 33

“We saw your body,” Prin says, again. She sounds ragged, as if saying the words takes a toll. “We saw what was left.” 

Lia puts a hand on her back, comforting. When her wife doesn’t continue, she picks up the story, her voice soft. 

“The entire place was burnt. We could see what happened. But there was nobody there. Nobody alive, anyways.” 

Kedric stares at his hands. Tamzin’s blood left a stain on his gauntlet, her tears dried to white on the leather seams. 

“How long have you been…” Lia trails off, trying to find the words. 

“How long has she been hiding you?” Prin snaps. 

Kedric closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. 

“Two years, I think. Something like that.” 

Prin spits fresh vitriol, Tamzin’s name a curse on her lips. 

“Stop,” Kedric says. 

“No,” she snarls. “That Lightborn trash kept you from us--” 

The look Kedric gives her kills the words on her tongue. 

Lia steps forward, as if she’ll place herself between the Hunter and her wife. 

“I need to go find her,” he finally says. “It’s not safe to be wandering off.” 

Prin is silent. Lia nods. 

“We’ll wait,” she assures him. “We have some cargo to unload. Just come to the ship when you’re ready.” 

Lia sees the tears in her wife’s eyes as she turns her back on Kedric. She reaches out to dab them, watching the man who was once a brother walking away. 

“I hate her,” Prin hisses, just low enough that Kedric can’t hear. “I’ll never forgive her.” 

Lia bites her lip and pulls her into an embrace. 

“Come on,” she says, letting Prin hold her so tightly it hurts. “Let’s get to the ship. Let’s get things ready.” 


	34. Chapter 34

Tamzin is lost. 

She is lost, and she is crying like an idiot, vision blurred with tears as she wanders a ship full of Fallen, unarmed and alone. 

She wishes she could stop crying. She wants to stop thinking about what will happen next. 

_ He’s going to leave you. He’s going to go with them. He’s going back to his family.  _

“Tamzin.” 

Rho is hovering, solicitous, nervous, glancing around for any sign of danger. 

“Tamzin, breathe. You’re going to hyperventilate.” 

_I'm already hyperventilating,_ Tamzin wants to scream. 

She doesn’t. She just forces herself to inhale, letting it out on a wretched sob. 

The Ghost sighs. 

“He’s just upset.” She floats in front of Tamzin, attempting to slow her down, make her stop staggering onward. “Understandably upset. But it will be fine. You both just--  _ You  _ need to calm down.” 

Tamzin sniffs, shaking her head. 

“No. No, it’s all falling apart.” 

She’s reached a dead end, she realizes. She stares at the locked hatch. Places a hand on it, as if that will change anything. 

“He can’t trust me. He’s going to leave. You were right all along.” 

Rho recoils, and Tamzin seems to collapse beneath the weight of her words, sobbing anew on her knees, the sounds amplified by the metal walls around them. 

“... Tamzin,” Rho speaks softly, for once, and the change in tone is enough to make Tamzin look up. “Look. I was wrong about him. I was wrong about you.” 

“What?” Tamzin hiccups, sniffling, staring at her Ghost in blank confusion. At least the shock has interrupted the flow of her tears, Rho thinks. “You never admit you’re wrong.” 

“Well, it won’t happen again, so stop crying and listen.” 

Rho’s reply is sharp, but she sighs again, softens her tone at the sight of fresh tears welling in her Guardian’s eyes. 

“Look, little one. I was jealous. I still am. I said a lot of awful things to make you doubt him, because I wanted you to rely on me.  _ Just _ me.” 

“Little one?” Tamzin blinks in surprise, then smiles. “You haven’t called me that in years.” 

“Because you’re not little anymore. Not that you ever were,” Rho amends. “But you’re still naive, even if you are playing outlaw, or being a scary killer. Whatever you decide to do.” 

“I’m not naive.” A sniffle, a defensive tone.  

“You are.” 

The Ghost drifts down, bumping Tamzin on the cheek before drawing back to repair the bruise, repair her teeth.

“You’re still mad that he left you, even though he didn’t have a choice. Even after he came back. Even after he found you again. Even after he went into exile with you, you still think he’ll disappear again.” 

“He could.” Tamzin keeps her voice low. “Any of us could.” 

“He  _ died _ , Tamzin. He didn’t have a choice,” Rho reiterates. She watches Tamzin rub her eyes on her sleeve, spreading snot on her gauntlets. “Believe what he’s shown you. That idiot would go to the edge of the universe for you, and he wouldn’t leave you behind to do it.” 

Tamzin starts crying again. Rho makes a noise of distress, but the girl just shakes her head. 

“I know,” she says. “I know he would. But I lied to him. And…”

Rho waits, patient. Tamzin flinches as her nose begins to reconstruct itself, the crunch and cracks making her eyes burn. 

“...I don’t  _ know  _ who I am anymore.” The Warlock finally says, voice low. “I don’t know what’s real.”

Her choice of words makes Rho falter, though she doesn’t stop until her cartilage is intact once more, only then moving to look Tamzin in the eyes as she speaks. 

“What do you mean when you say that?” She’s trying to sound gentle, trying to hide the concern in her voice. “That you don’t know what-- 

The hatch before them slides open, making Ghost and Warlock jump, Rho falling back as Tamzin reaches for a gun that is not at her side. 

A petite Awoken woman is standing in the doorway, staring at them, blue hair mussed and clothes wrinkled. 

“Who are you?” The woman doesn’t seem to have seen Rho. She’s rubbing her eyes, looking Tamzin over with a suspicious glare. “And what’s all the wailing about?” 


	35. Chapter 35

The woman looks between Tamzin and Rho, seeming to realize something. Her expression shifts from irritation to something Tamzin can’t quite read. 

Hope? Or is it fear? 

“You’re a Guardian.” The woman says. “What’s a Guardian doing here?” 

Tamzin tries to wipe her face clean, but she only succeeds in making her cheeks even redder. 

“I’m… I’m lost,” she admits, sniffling, hoping she looks less pathetic than she feels. “I needed a minute and I took a wrong turn.” 

“You’re covered in blood.” 

The woman moves, crouching down beside her, as well as she can. Tamzin realizes she’s a bit thick about the waist, though the rest of her is rail thin. 

“I didn’t hear any fighting--”

“What are you doing on a Ketch?” Tamzin interrupts, unable to keep her eyes from drifting to the girl’s bruises, the rough craftsmanship of her prosthetic arm. “In your-- In your condition?” 

“It’s a long story,” the woman replies. She sounds fretful, anxious, placing her hands on Tamzin’s shoulders and leaning forward conspiratorially. “But we can talk about that later. If he’s dead, I’m ready to go.” 

“Go?” Tamzin repeats the words. The girl’s urgent tone and fervent glances behind them are making her nervous. “I-- Wait. Who are you? What do you think I’m doing here?” 

“Be quiet!” The girl snaps, grip digging into Tamzin’s shoulders. “They’ll hear you. They’ll come for us.” 

Tamzin flinches. She’s getting tired of being yelled at today. 

“I’m a prisoner,” the girl replies, voice low. “I’m the Baron’s pet. If your people are going to kill him, if you’re going to wipe them out, I can help. Tell the Vanguard _ I can help _ .” 

Tamzin looks stricken as she realizes what the woman thinks she’s here for. What she thinks she can do. 

“I’m... “ Tamzin suddenly can’t meet the girl’s eyes. “I’m not a Guardian.” 

She can see the hope drain from the woman’s face.

“What do you mean? You have a Ghost. You’re here. Why wouldn’t you be here to kill him?” She can’t keep the panic out of her voice. “You have to call the Vanguard. You have to tell them--”

“I’m not with the Vanguard.” Short, sharp, a confession that tastes as bitter as it sounds. “I’m an outlaw. I’m not here to save you.”

The girl rocks back onto her heels, hands falling to her sides. 

“...Oh.” 

Tamzin feels a detached fascination as she watches the light drain from those bright green eyes. She can feel the weight of her despair, her desperation. 

“If you’re his… pet,” Tamzin ventures, gaze lingering on the girl’s stomach. “If you’ve been trapped here… How did you get…?” 

The girl flushes, though Tamzin can’t tell if it’s in anger or shame. 

“I’m not the only one,” is all she says. She gets up, clumsy, unsteady enough that Tamzin reaches out to catch her.

The woman steps back. Out of reach.

“Go back the way you came. Don’t let him catch you in this part of the ship.” 

“Him?” Tamzin feels stupid, repeating this girl so much, but she doesn’t know what else to say. “Why?” 

“He’s possessive,” the girl replies, hugging herself, as if the words bring back memories she doesn’t like. “And he’d probably enjoy having a Guardian to break, if he could get one.” 

“He wouldn’t dare,” Tamzin starts to reply. “We work for--” 

“Tamzin!” 

Kedric’s voice. Kedric’s steps. 

Tamzin flinches once more. She didn’t realize he’d followed her, didn’t realize she’d left a trail of blood to show him the way. 

“You can’t just run off here.”

He’s striding toward them, intent, purposeful. She glances anxiously beyond the strange woman, but there is only darkness there. 

Kedric picks up pace, though he knows she can’t run off this time. 

Tamzin looks at her strange companion, and for a moment, she forgets her own pain. 

The girl is staring at Kedric as if she’s seen a ghost. Her face is pale, body stiff, hands covering her stomach as if she’d protect it from him-- Or hide it. 

“I’m sorry she bothered you,” Kedric says, brusque yet polite, leaning down to check Tamzin’s bloodied scalp. “We’ll get out of your hair.” 

“... It’s no bother,” the girl says. Her voice is strained. “She was just upset.” 

Tamzin lets Kedric lift her to her feet, keeping her eyes on the girl, trying to puzzle out these strange shifts in her behavior. 

“Do you, ah…” Kedric pauses, looking the girl up and down. “You don’t look like you’re feeling well, miss. Do you need us to fetch someone?” 

“No.” She answers quickly. “I’m fine. Just… feeling sick.” 

Tamzin looks back down the hall, remembering those fearful glances. She hesitates as Kedric begins pulling her away, digging in her heels, reaching out a hand. 

“I’m Tamzin. I have a feeling I’ll be back here, eventually,” she says, forcing a soft smile onto her face. “Maybe I’ll get to see you again, Miss…?” 

The girl stares at her hand for a moment before taking it, eyes snapping to Kedric’s face once more. 

“Jessa,” she replies. She seems to be waiting for a reaction from Kedric. “Just Jessa.” 

Kedric’s expression doesn’t change. He’s still staring at Tamzin, a worried frown tugging the corners of his mouth. 

Jessa feels numb. 

“I hope I get to see you again, Jessa.” Tamzin says. 

She keeps smiling, even as the girl abruptly turns and retreats through the door. 


	36. Chapter 36

“Let go of me,” Tamzin snarls at Kedric as soon as the hatch closes, attempting to jerk her arm out of his grip. “I’m fine.” 

Kedric doesn’t let go. He tows her down the corridor, following the trail of her smeared blood like breadcrumbs, ignoring her protests. 

They must be halfway back when he stops in front of a wall with exposed pipes. Tamzin tries to free herself again, but he just turns her around, pushes her back, making her sit on the pipes like a makeshift bench. 

“You can’t just run off like that,” he starts over, an edge of anger in his voice. “We’re on a goddamn Fallen ship who knows how far away from the Reef, and you’re still injured-- Where the fuck is Rho? Because if something happens, Spider can’t do any--” 

“What do you want, Kedric?” Tamzin interrupts him, hands balling into fists at her sides. “To threaten me again? To remind me how awful I am?” 

He looks pained, but he doesn’t reply quickly enough. She has the momentum now. 

“I don’t need you to look after me. Rho will finish up.” Tamzin tries to get to her feet, but Kedric just shoves her back down. “Why aren’t you with your sisters? Go on. Let them cry on you. Decide what you want to do with your lying  _ whore _ once you’ve had your family reunion.” 

“Stop trying to run away, Tamzin--” 

“No.” She tries to cut him off, tries to ward off his reaching hands. “No. Don’t touch me.” 

“Tamzin.” Kedric drops to his knees before her, between her feet, taking her face into his hands despite her resistance. “Stop.” 

They stay there, for a moment, breathing heavily, waiting for one blow or another to fall, until Kedric speaks again. 

“You come first, Tamzin. You will always come first. Even when I’m mad at you.” 

“Why?” Her voice is too loud, too high-pitched. “You wanted them. You weren’t happy with just me. Now you have a family. Now you can all be together.” 

“Tamzin.” He says her name again, stroking her cheek. “Come on.” 

“Stop saying my name!” Her shout is sharp against these metal walls. “Just let me go. Leave me alone.” 

He leans in, but she turns her head, and his kiss lands on her jaw instead of her lips. 

“Stop it,” she repeats. It sounds like a plea this time. She hates it. “Why won’t you stop?” 

“Tamzin. Tamzin.” Another kiss, soft, closer, brushing the corner of her mouth. “Tamzin, hush now. My darling. My beloved.” 

Kedric’s grip is soft, gentle, his hand shifting to the side of her throat, her jaw, drawing her face to his own as he finally finds her lips.

“Softly, sweetheart.”

It’s a possessive, sad, jealous kiss, the sort of claim he lays when he’s been frightened, when she’s been talking to other men, when some sort of danger has narrowly passed. 

Tamzin doesn’t know why, but it makes her want to cry again. 

“Why would you ever think I wouldn’t love you?” Kedric whispers the words fiercely, stroking her face, her throat, breath warm against her skin. “I don’t need you to be anything but what you are. I don’t want you to be anyone but Tamzin.” 

His voice is soft, soothing, poison, easing into her soul like the drugs she once took to forget him. 

She wants to mistrust it, to resist him, but his body feels like home, even as he kneels before her, face lifted to hers like a supplicant to his goddess. 

“You love who I used to be.” Her voice is thin, a frail exhale against his own lips. “You don’t know what I am. You didn’t know I was lying. There’s no way you could know...”

What she is. What she’s done. The lies she’s told him, told herself. The twisted, dark thoughts that plague her mind night after night and day after day. 

“I know when you’re lying, Tamzin.” He presses his forehead to her own, his eyes aglow as he takes in her fear, her regret, her welling tears. “I shouldn’t have waited. It became a test. I wanted to see. But I began to believe… I began to think I was wrong for suspecting you.” 

Kedric sighs, using his thumb to wipe the blood from her nose. 

“For the lies, at least. The rest of it… Well. You’re a terrible actress, at least when it comes to me. You always let it slip in the end. I’m rather insulted that you seemed to think I was too stupid to notice.”  

“There isn’t a show,” she protests. Tamzin seems to shrink with shame, tears spilling down her cheeks once more as she closes her eyes, tries to withdraw from him. “That’s not who I am.” 

“Stop that.” He draws her down, eases her from the pipe onto the floor, straddling his lap. He kisses her again, again, until he feels her body soften against him.“Stop shutting me out.” 

“I’m not,” she lies. “I’m not.” 

“Liar.” He murmurs, kissing away one tear, then another. “Please. No more lies. No more facade. Not for me.”

Tamzin takes a slow, unsteady breath. 

“I don’t know what’s me anymore,” she confesses. “I don’t know what I should be.” 

“Don’t overthink it, then.” Kedric sighs as if this is tiring. She isn’t sure if she wants to kiss him or push him away. “You’re allowed to be violent and vicious. You’re allowed to be sad and bitter. Let yourself feel what you want to feel. Let me see what you are. Not who you think I want you to be.” 

“... Kedric--” 

Tamzin starts to speak, but he shushes her, thumb resting lightly over her lips. 

“Let me finish before you start arguing with me.” He watches her brow furrow in consternation, her wet lashes fluttering as she tries to stop her tears. “I want  _ you _ , Tamzin. Do you understand?” 

Tamzin bites her lip. 

“I’m not bitter,” she finally replies. “And I’m not a bad actress.” 

Kedric smirks, and kisses her again-- this time gentle, this time tender. 

She tastes the salt of her own blood and tears on his lips.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” she breathes, lashes brushing his cheeks. “I really am.” 

“That’s better.” He smiles, and the world feels a bit brighter, somehow. “That’s all I want to hear, beloved.” 


End file.
